


PMD: Road to Redemption

by Limesar



Series: Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Alternate Realities [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pokemon Mystery Dungeon
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Rescue Team AU, Self-Harm, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-08-07 14:04:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 50,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16409855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Limesar/pseuds/Limesar
Summary: A region once filled with unfathomable riches now suffers an economic depression. Crime rates have skyrocketed, few towns have proper homes, and an impending disaster is predicted to wipe out the nation's residents - perhaps even the world itself.In this mess, a human is transported to this place, and his body takes the form of a cyndaquil...





	1. Re-conned

The crescent moon’s rise signaled a shift in activity among the residents of Pokémon Square. Shopkeepers and homeowners slept the night away, blissfully ignorant of the world around them.

There was another matter at hand, however: a handful of pokémon snuck through the streets, committing more dubious acts. This was the life of many ‘mon throughout the region of Valosse; thievery, smuggling, and - though rare - murder happened out of necessity for the large majority of the poor.

It was at this time that a small totodile quietly approached a particular house along the outskirts of town. His navy blue mobile scarf, a family heirloom, wrapped over his head like a hood, accompanied by a plain bandana of similar color obstructing his mouth.

Lockjaw felt himself shaking under his bag a tiny bit. This was his first night attempting to steal food for his family, and he knew he had to play it safe. _This can _not_ go wrong. Just get a few apples if I can and stuff ‘em in my bag._

With a hesitant nod, he clutched his mobile scarf, its power allowing him to phase through the wall. He poked his snout through the other side, analyzing the interior of the house.

A fireplace dimly glowed, highlighting a straw bed nearby. He could make out an orange body resting on it. From another angle, he saw the burning end of its tail, sparking a brief twinge of fear. Eventually, he spotted a bowl of huge, bright red apples a fair distance away.

Lockjaw took himself out of the wall, loosening his grip on the scarf. _Okay, it looks like I won’t need to go around the charizard for them. I shouldn’t take the whole bowl, but given the size of those apples, I probably won’t need more than three._

Starting his plan of action, the totodile tiptoed into the house, careful not to bump into anything. He reached for two of the apples, realizing that there were more than he thought once he glanced back. Hesitantly, he shot a look at the slumbering charizard, who seemingly remained undisturbed.

Confidence growing, Lockjaw grabbed two more of the fruits and placed them within his bag. _That was pretty easy. Now all four of us can have a whole apple!_

A small portion of anxiety remained, though. _But how come this guy has so many of them? He doesn’t _seem_ that well-off…_

As he tried exiting with his mobile scarf, however, he merely bumped into the wall instead, a faint magenta light briefly appearing where he had made contact. The totodile, bewildered, tried again for the same result. _Wait, is this a psychic barrier? Then that means…_

He heard a door open, and he mentally slapped himself. _Great. I trapped myself in a house with a psychic. Scratch that, _the_ psychic!_

“Dammit, Char…” a voice rang. “Snacking on apples again. If there’s one thing I don’t know, it’s why I trust him with our food supply.”

Lockjaw noticed a half-opened window. His hope reignited. _Okay, gotta make this fast._

With a great leap, he hurdled over the edge of the window, though not without making a small clattering noise. Undeterred, the totodile rushed into the forest.

The pokémon who had entered the house glanced out the window. Sighing, he clamped the glass shut, a faint smirk growing under his yellow whiskers. “Why, that must’ve been little Lockjaw. Such a shame…”

* * *

“Well, this just _fantastic_.”

Waking up in the middle of the night was one thing, but waking up in the body of a pokémon soured his mood immensely. “At least I’m a cyndaquil. Typhlosion is _badass_.”

He stretched his body, feeling some bones pop. _Yeesh. Sometimes I wonder if I’d prefer lucid dreams over none at all. Do I at least have ember to keep myself entertained?_

Rocard spent a good few minutes trying to make flames sprout from his back or spew fire from his mouth, though the efforts were fruitless. _That would be a resounding no. Gah, a fire-type without fire sucks… But, if I remember correctly, a cyndaquil learns ember early, right? ...No wait, they’re the last ones to learn it. Shit. I’ll just need to cope with it, I guess._

After sitting and essentially being unproductive, he figured that he wasn’t being particularly helpful to anyone. The cyndaquil began walking aimlessly, deep in thought. _Okay, Orre doesn’t have forests _this_ clean… Maybe Agate would, but not to this extent. Then again, I’ve never been to Agate._

With a sigh, Rocard stopped at the base of a tree. He felt a slight breeze brush his fur. _Dammit. This is either the best fever dream, or I really did turn into a cyndaquil._

A bush rustled nearby, and once he turned around, a flaaffy with dusty wool came staggering toward him. “Now what’re you doin’ out here by your lonesome?” it inquired with a raspy voice. “I’d be glad to give you a few meds to help you sleep.”

Rocard shook his head in slight surprise. “Manaphy’s mammaries, and I thought the drug commercials were corny.”

He started backpedalling a fair bit, eyeing his newfound adversary.

“The hell you talkin’ about, shorty?” the dirty sheep-like pokémon called, approaching the cyndaquil.

Because of the increasing length, Rocard cupped his hands around his mouth. “Y’know, ‘Meth: not even once’? ‘What it feels to chew five gum’? And what’s with your voice? Come on, dude, you know you’re only supposed to smoke one cig at a time, right?”

He didn’t bother to listen to the now-enraged flaaffy, partly due to concentrating his efforts in running as fast as he could with his stubby legs. Before long, the cyndaquil could hardly hear his aggressor’s shots of electricity, but he had already slowed to a crawl. _Hah… I really should work out more… At least this will give me time to hide from him._

Glancing around the immediate area, he found a hole in a particular tree, just large enough for him to squeeze through it. _Perfect._

Rocard jumped up a portion of the trunk, gripping the rim of the hole with a paw. Grunting, he pulled himself up, ignoring the soreness of his arm. His lower body became stuck in the entrance, prompting him to push his arms against the rim.

Then, with a slight pop, he made it fully inside the tree. _Ow… This body will be sore and cramped by tomorrow - if this isn’t a dream, that is. Better than being electrocuted and possibly drugged, at least._

He heard a crackling noise, followed by angry curse words. _Come to think of it, why am I suddenly able to understand other pokémon? Surely, I’d still have to study for years. Maybe I _am_ still dreaming after a--_

His thoughts were soon interrupted by something grabbing him and bringing him to a lower section of the trunk.

Bewildered by the sudden force, Rocard glanced around, only finding himself surrounded with the pitch black color of darkness. “Okay, what--”

“Shush! I don’t know how you found this retreat, but I am _not_ going to let you leave so easily and let ACT know where this is!” a new, harshly quiet voice cut him off, a light scratch hitting his arm.

The cyndaquil tried to push the someone away, but the tight space prevented him from doing much. “Look, I have no idea what you’re talking about--”

With a snarl, the voice pushed back. “That is the most lame and lazy excuse you could say! Do you have--”

“No, you’ve interrupted me twice, I get to interrupt you and explain my side of the story! There’s a--”

“That’s not how it--”

“Three times now. Shut up.”

Rocard heard the voice groan and lean back. Satisfied, he tilted back as well. “Okay, then. I was trying to escape a flaaffy that wanted to reenact a ‘drugs are bad’ infomercial, and I found a hole in this tree. Had you not pulled me down, I would’ve waited until he left and continue along my merry way.

“But _nooo_ , Mister McEdge brings me into this small nook and threatens to claw my organs out - how’d you pull me here, anyway? - and, _great job_ , dummy, you revealed a secret lair to a nobody that you could’ve easily _left alone_. Gods, what did I do to deserve this mess?”

The other pokémon’s growling faded, apparently realizing his mistake. “Rgh… You bring up a valid point there. And, admittedly, this is my first night on the job. Ugh, I’m never going to hear the end of Dad’s ranting…”

Rocard raised an eyebrow, despite the darkness. It smelled like salt water, which didn’t ease him in the slightest. “What’s this ‘job’ you speak of, murder?”

He heard a faint thunk, followed by a pained noise from someone. The guy in front of him panicked, saying, “No! Not murder, thank Arc. It’s thievery, like most of the region - out of _necessity_ , not as a hobby.”

The cyndaquil sighed, taking note of a faint call. “Sure, whatever you say. Who was that out there, anyway?”

Perking up, he listened intently for any additional sounds. Eventually, a feminine voice could be heard. “Caterpie? Momma can’t find you! Please, Caterpie, come back!”

Rocard tensed. He prodded the pokémon next to him. “Hey, whatever you did with pulling me down here, could you do it again? I’m gonna help the lady.”

The someone made a stammering noise. “But how do you know it isn’t a lure to get caught?”

“I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. For now, all I can tell is that a mother is desperately looking for her son or daughter, so we better go _now_ before she goes out of earshot,” the cyndaquil countered with a glare.

“Mmph… Alright.”

Rocard felt a pull on his snout dragging him out into the moonlight. He looked around, searching for the pokémon who made the plea, and he eventually noticed flapping wings. Nodding, he approached the figure.

Said figure turned around, revealing herself to be a butterfree. “Oh no, bandits! I don’t have anything for you!”

Stopping, Rocard waved his arms frantically. “No, stop! I came to help you look for - er, Caterpie, right? Where do you think he or she went?”

The butterfree visibly calmed down, hovering a bit closer to the ground. “As much as I appreciate the help, I don’t know where he could’ve run off to. I’ve thoroughly checked the village, and I just started my search here. Caterpie couldn’t have run further than Tiny Woods - a little further that way - but if he made it there…”

Rocard nodded. “Understood. In fact, I’ll go on ahead to Tiny Woods and start searching there.”

Before he could leave, however, the butterfree added, “Be careful, though. Tiny Woods hasn’t been acting right lately, and a fissure has made the residents antsy. I’ve been there only once recently, but the sunkern are ferocious! Just… try to be cautious.”

The cyndaquil bowed, hiding a smirk at the thought of rabid sunkern. “Got it. Hopefully your son will be safe.”

He then ran in the direction Butterfree had suggested, forgetting about who had helped him out of the tree.

Lockjaw sneered at the fire-type. _That cyndaquil… he’s crazier than a gabite protecting its gems. Luckily for him, I have better things to do._

The totodile wrapped the mobile scarf over his head once more, preparing to head towards his home. However, as he did so, powder enveloped him, making his joints stiff and unusable.

He turned as best he could with his limited motion, setting his eyes on the now-angry butterfree. “Y-Yes?”

Butterfree glared at him, interrogating, “Don’t think I didn’t see you follow behind that cyndaquil. If you’re not helping him find my son, there’s nothing stopping me from turning in a thief like you. _Do I make myself clear?_ ”

Nodding with a terrified expression, Lockjaw replicated a thumbs-up. “Yes, m-ma’am. I-I’ll help him out.”

“Good,” she stated, her eyes gaining a magenta tint. “Now, join him.”

The next thing he knew, Lockjaw was launched in the cyndaquil’s direction.

* * *

Rocard sighed, picking a lonely stick off the dirt. He inspected the wood out of boredom, finding relief in knowing it could be used as a weapon if necessary. _Unless I can use some sort of worthwhile attack, this might just be my best defense._

Out of the blue, something heavy rammed into his backside, flinging the branch out of his grasp as he hit the ground.

The fire-type pushed himself up with a pained grunt, turning around. “What’s the big ide--”

He stopped upon seeing a totodile cradling its snout with the scarf around its neck. The stench of salt water came rushing back to him.

“So _you_ were the guy that pulled me through that tree!” Rocard exclaimed, scrunching up his nostrils. “If you wanted to hit on me, you could’ve at least had the decency to not do it literally.”

Scowling, the totodile slid a digit down his face. “Ugh, leave that to your dreams. I didn’t know the butterfree had psychic.”

Rocard took a closer look at the scarf, touching it before pulling away from the snap of the water-type’s jaws. He scoffed, stating, “Doesn’t feel like the kind of cloth of a choice scarf… but I at least know seemingly ordinary trinkets have some use to them - unless things are different around here.”

The totodile glared at him. “You’re not having it.”

“I suggested nothing of the sort,” Rocard retorted, picking up his newfound stick. “If we’re gonna find this caterpie, we’ll need to work together. To do that, I can’t simply call you Totodile.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to,” the water-type proclaimed, “and I don’t trust you enough with my actual name.”

Rocard hummed, walking down the path. “Okay then, Dile Turner. Nice to meet you, I’m Rocard, now let’s look for Caterpie.”

‘Dile Turner’s’ jaw hung open. Instead of forming a comeback, he ran to catch up with the cyndaquil.

Looking down the beginnings of the crevice, Rocard clutched his stick tighter. _Yikes. No wonder that butterfree was worried._

He jumped over the occasional fallen tree, glancing underneath for any sign of the bug-type. “Hello? Caterpie, you there?”

Dile kicked the bark, chipping a piece off it and receiving a glare from the cyndaquil. “Why not just burn it?”

“Wha--Because I don’t wanna burn it and later discover Caterpie among the ashes!” Rocard countered.

He heard the totodile mutter something, but he couldn’t determine what it was. Deciding to let it slide, he walked down a narrow path. Rocard took note of a large seed in the next room before continuing onward.

As the cyndaquil headed toward another hall, however, a few sparks flew from the edge of his vision. Dile slammed into the wall next to him, letting out a groan. Rocard whipped around, spotting the flaaffy from earlier.

“Think you’re hot shit, makin’ a damn fool outta me,” the electric-type seethed. “You’re going down, you flame-shitter!”

“Well, then,” Rocard scoffed, readying his weapon. “You want a piece of me? Come and get it while it’s hot!”

With a bold war cry, the flaaffy charged at him, wildly swinging a thunderpunch. Rocard rolled out of reach before headbutting the electric-type. Much to his dismay, the opponent barely flinched, producing a static shock.

He fell to the ground, paralysis coursing through him. _Damn! Looks like I can’t use any normal-type moves either. Now what?_

It took more effort than he had hoped to roll away from the flaaffy’s kicks. Rocard noticed the seed was just within arm’s reach. He pulled it toward him, but his opponent kicked him in the rear before he could properly grasp it.

The moment he stopped skidding across the ground, Rocard regained feeling in his arms. He grabbed the seed and tossed it in the electric-type’s direction, hoping for the best. Sparks lit up the room, and...

A large burst of static resounded behind him. When the cyndaquil realized he hadn’t been hit, he turned around. “What the hell…?”

The flaaffy trembled in place, stuck raising his fist. All the static lacing his body gained an orange tint. As much as Rocard was tempted to poke the electric-type, he instead picked up his stick and leaned on it. “C’mon, Dile Turner. Butterfree shouldn't wait longer than she has to.”

Dile pushed himself up a bit too quickly, clutching his head from the resulting rush of blood. “Ugh… What the _hell_ were you thinking there? A basic attack on someone who's clearly stronger than you?”

“So why didn't you pitch in a move, then?” Rocard retorted. “Whatever. Let's just continue looking for Caterpie.”

“Because I'm weak to electricity, of course!” Dile spouted, teeth bare.

The cyndaquil deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “Typing isn’t everything. We could've had the numbers’ advantage, a different array of attacks, and more options. You not joining the fight, as we saw, denied all that. I had to clutch out of the fight because of my limited options.

“Now are we rescuing Caterpie or not?” he demanded, waltzing down the path.

Dile opened his mouth to respond, but he promptly shut it.

* * *

“M-Mommy… Where a-are you, Mommy?”

Caterpie sniffled, trembling between a crack in the ground and subsequently feeling a few pieces of dirt pelt his skin. Wincing from the chunks, he let out another sob.

“I-I'm scared, M-Mommy…” he whimpered, shutting his eyes tighter.

Then, he heard a faint voice, accompanied by footsteps. The bug-type panicked, squirming in the crevice in an attempt to escape. Abruptly, a large stick wedged itself directly in front of him, scaring him into backing off.

“Grab on!” the new voice ordered from above. “We'll get you to your mother!”

Caterpie all but squealed, latching onto the stick with hardly a second thought. The stick rose out of the fissure, revealing the owner of the voice to be a cyndaquil. He paled. _D-Didn't Mommy say not to trust fire-types?_

The cyndaquil smiled, placing the stick onto smooth soil. “There we go. C'mon, your mother's waiting--she _is_ a butterfree, right?”

Caterpie didn't move an inch off the stick. “M-Mommy said not to trust fire-types.”

Smile fading, the cyndaquil glanced away. “That's… understandable. You're vulnerable to fire moves, after all… How about you talk with someone who… erm, 'helped’ me out with finding you?”

The bug-type turned his gaze towards a sulking totodile. He beamed at the realization of who it was. “Oh, Lockjaw! Hi! Did you come looking for me?”

Lockjaw sent a flustered scowl to Caterpie. “I--Yes… Yes, I did. Let's go find Butterfree.”

Scooping an arm to pick up the little caterpie, Lockjaw glared at Rocard. _Don't even think about it,_ he nearly seethed.

Rocard shrugged with a sigh, though he said nothing.

* * *

Giving the outskirts of the town one last lookover, Butterfree exhaled. She sagged, loosening her grip on the metapod in her arms. “Sorry, May,” she whispered. “Larry isn't here. I appreciate your willingness to help, but…”

“But my form doesn't allow much movement,” May droned, looking back up at the butterfree. “I'm sorry I'm being a burden, Auntie Rey.”

“No, don't be!” Rey denied with a hint of desperation. “A second set of eyes helps _tremendously_. It just happens to be that Larry… isn't here…”

The butterfree fought back the welling tears. She gazed into the moonlit sky, then back to her niece. May was staring into a thicker part of the woods, eyes alert.

“What's wrong, sweetie?” Rey prodded.

Leaning further into her caretaker's arms, May mumbled, “They're here.”

Bushes in one part of the forest rustled, parting in the wake of a cyndaquil and totodile. Larry rested on top of the totodile's head, looking at his mother.

“Mommy!” the little caterpie exclaimed, hopping off and darting to the butterfree. “Mommy! I missed you!”

Lowering herself to the ground, Rey gently picked up her son and snuggled him. “Oh, Larry…”

She glanced at the pokémon that helped her, smile weak. “I should thank both of you dearly… Unfortunately, I don't have much to offer. All I have on me is a bit of cash and some berries.”

The cyndaquil smiled back, shaking his head. “Keep them. Your son's safety is what matters here.”

“I insist!” she stated, fishing for some berries. “Without your immediate help, he would've had a higher risk of dungeon sickness!”

Hesitating, the fire-type relented with a confused expression, letting Rey hand him the reward.

“Now, may I know your names?” she suggested. “In case we meet again, that is. Call me Rey.”

“Rocard,” the cyndaquil said. “And this guy--”

“I can speak for myself,” the totodile quipped with a frown. “It’s Lockjaw.”

Rey nodded. “A pleasure meeting you both…” she eyed Lockjaw with a twinge of annoyance. “...Hopefully the next time we see each other isn't during a crisis. Have a good night!”

As the butterfree fluttered off with May and Larry in tow, Rocard turned to Lockjaw. “So, that was nice, wasn't it? Too bad _you_ didn't do much more than watch.”

“Leave me outta this,” the water-type scoffed. “I'm going home. _Don't_ follow me there. Got it?”

“Alright, alright, sheesh.”

Rocard watched the totodile storm off. He sighed, putting on a fake smile and wandering in the direction of the caterpie's family. _Well… Now what? By the looks of it, humans are either scarce or nonexistent. So why am _I_ here? I can't be _that_ important, can I?_

He shook his head, figuring his questions wouldn't be answered immediately. _Might just be best not to talk about humans for the time being._

With that conclusion reached, Rocard continued down the worn dirt path.


	2. Convinced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **[Content Warning: This chapter contains self-harm and blood. Reader discretion is advised.]**

The slow beat of wings woke Larry up from his little nap. He opened one eye to scan his room, noticing the light of the sun only barely reaching through his window. With a yawn, the caterpie hopped out of his straw bed.

“Mommy,” he called, “can I ask you a question?”

Rey peeked from around the corner with a tired smile. “Go right ahead, Larry.”

He hesitated, if only slightly. Then, with a small inhale, he said, “Are _all_ fire-types bad?”

The butterfree’s wings stopped. “What made you think about that?”

“That cyndaquil said something about how I was ‘vuln-rable to fire moves’,” Larry quoted, tilting his head. “But he looked real sad and asked me if Lockjaw would help me out instead.”

“Um, well…” Rey began, looking for the right words to say. “It is true that you’re weak to fire-type attacks. That’s why I told you not to trust fire-types… but perhaps I was speaking from experience.

“The world is a dangerous place. You never know who might want to hurt you. In truth, you should judge someone based off their actions - not just their typing. I suppose I just wanted you to know your weaknesses first and worry about everyone else when you're older.”

She fluttered over to Larry to pick him up. “Now, who's this Lockjaw you speak of?”

The caterpie perked up at the mention. “Oh! He's one of the friends I play with at Mister Whiscash's pond! And he's super cool, too! Papa knows his papa, so that's double-cool!”

Rey faltered.

* * *

Rocard poked his head out of the tree's hole. Squinting his eyes some more, he could make out a sign in the distance. He heard his stomach rumble. _Well, now seems like as good an opportunity as ever to find a town._

Once he squeezed himself out of the tree, he walked toward the sign. The written language, however, seemed to consist of various footprints - something he remembered hearing about in a documentary once. _Damn. Chances are this is the common language. Gonna have to study it then… Though maybe illiteracy is a good enough excuse to avoid explaining my former humanity… Arceus, that feels weird to say, even in my head._

While he continued to ponder his situation, a tyranitar came from one end of the path, its footsteps shaking up the cyndaquil.

“Ah, a cyndaquil!” the rock-type proclaimed. “I take it you're visiting the Square?”

Rocard made a conscious effort to shove his trepidation towards the large pokémon into the back of his mind. “Um, yes sir. I'm new here, is all.”

The tyranitar returned a kind smile and pointed behind himself. “It's straight through there. You might wanna check out Whiscash Pond - it's a popular place to stay for fellow travelers!”

Forcing a smile, Rocard nodded. “Thanks. I'll keep that in mind.”

Before he could step further, the rock-type's face became one of concern. “Although, it's a shame Scorched Plains had that earthquake a few weeks ago. I apologize for any loved ones you may have lost there. Would you like any supplies, a home?”

The cyndaquil gazed into space. “Home…”

_Oh, gods, how am I gonna return home? If my memory's failed me from the past week and I'm _here_ , the way to get back is probably hidden within that time frame. So now--_

Tyranitar nodded, weirded out by the reaction. “Er, yeah. Homesick?”

“Like you wouldn't believe,” Rocard droned, shaking his head to readjust himself. “Oh right, sorry. How much is the house?”

“Don't worry about it!” the rock-type responded. “I'll cover the cost. If Char liked the place, I'm sure you would, too! Follow me!”

And just like that, the tyranitar jogged off, feet shaking the ground violently. Rocard trailed behind, practically bouncing off the gravel as he did so. _Ack--wha--I can't--think--gah--straight with--yikes--all this rumbling--_

Tyranitar, however, felt a vague foreboding brewing within him. His instincts urged him to check on the cyndaquil. _Did I see some sort of symbol on his stomach? Bah… I’ll check with Atka about it. Must've been hopeful about something… What was it again? It's been a long night, anyways._

* * *

Lockjaw huffed, catching his breath before tapping the rock rhythmically. He waited a few seconds, but only when he started repeating the rhythm did a feraligatr pop up out of the lake.

“Mom, I got the apples,” he breathed. “Where's Daisy?”

The feraligatr smiled, rubbing her son's head before saying, “Daisy's getting some berries from the tree. Your father's waiting, dear.”

Lockjaw jumped onto her back, holding tight. They dived underwater, tightly turning around the maze of corners before reaching one particular 'dead-end’ and swimming up. The totodile couldn't help but stare at the crystal-coated cavern - the beauty of such a place wasn't one that could be easily forgotten.

Feraligatr gestured her son toward the ground, though Lockjaw didn't move or acknowledge her motions. She clucked her tongue, but she otherwise didn't pressure him any further.

He hesitated in climbing down, if only because of the dominant presence of his father. “H-Hey, Dad.”

His father, a dragonite, scooped him up and brought him into a hug. “I was so _worried_ about you, Lockjaw! What took you so long to come back?”

“I-I…” the totodile stuttered. “There were some complications.”

Dragonite placed his son back onto the smooth ground, frowning in concern. “What kind of complications?”

“Well,” Lockjaw nearly shouted, “it would’ve been _nice to know_ that Team ACT was in the house you told me to go to. There was also some random cyndaquil that insisted on bringing me along to help a caterpie out of a mystery dungeon.”

Wincing, Dragonite clenched a fist. “Did ACT do anything to you? Did they chase you?”

The totodile sighed. “They didn't go after me. Their psychic barrier made it more difficult to escape, but nothing else went wrong… I hope.”

The draconid visibly relaxed, briefly glancing at Feraligatr. “That’s… good. That's good. A-And what of this cyndaquil you mentioned?”

“Oh, gods, him,” Lockjaw groaned. “He couldn't fight his way out a wet paper bag. He tried to fight a flaaffy with only a stick and a basic attack and just about got us both beaten up. The only reason we even escaped that guy was because the cyndaquil threw a stun seed at him without even knowing what it does!”

Dragonite scoffed, seemingly agreeing with his son, before he tilted his head. “Though if he was as awful at battling as you say, what stopped you from trashing the flaaffy? One ice punch would've been the end of it.”

Lockjaw hesitated, looking away. “...He got a sneak attack on me.”

“Lockjaw,” Dragonite exhaled, “What did I tell you about the first rule of dungeon-crawling?”

“Don't let your guard down,” the water-type grumbled, sagging.

For a moment, all was still. Lockjaw grew irritated with the deafening silence, but he held his tongue. _Why does every talk I have with Dad have to have an awkward silence like this? Maybe I shouldn't have blurted out everything at once..._

Dragonite turned away in thought. “Perhaps you should accompany this cyndaquil.”

Lockjaw glared at his father, but the stare he received prevented him from properly retorting. _Of course he says that…_

“Both of you could learn from each other,” Dragonite explained. “I get that you don't like him, but if he was so willing to rescue a caterpie… We need more good pokémon like him.”

The totodile held his scowl for a few seconds, but he eventually softened up. _Dad's right as always… Of course he is. Doesn't change the fact that I don't wanna go with that reckless cyndaquil._

“So go on,” the draconid ushered. “Check the town first; chances are that cyndaquil's finding a place to stay there, since it's so close.”

Lockjaw grumbled incoherently to himself, making his way to the water. Before diving, however, he turned around. “What about Daisy?”

 

“Daisy will be safe here,” Feraligatr reassured. “I’ll tell her about her big brother’s newfound adventure. Maybe when she’s ready, she can join you.”

The totodile frowned, unsatisfied with the answer, but he dived back into the maze again.

Dragonite breathed a long sigh, stroking the antennae on his head. “You think Aries would like our son finally going on a journey like this?”

Rolling her eyes, Feraligatr cuffed him with a twinge of guilt. “C'mon, Greyson, you know that old bug got his mind wiped last month. Jaws going on his little adventure would be the least of his worries.”

* * *

The house had a rustic charm to it - certainly a contrast to his home in Pyrite. Rocard felt the strange urge to wag his tail. _I guess it _does_ seem to appeal to fire-types… but I don't even have a tail! Cyndaquil instincts are frickin’ _weird_._

“So you like it?” Tyranitar piped up. “Plenty of houses around here are designed for specific types.”

“Looks nice,” Rocard replied, eyeing the chimney in particular. “A fireplace to help with the winter is cool… Actually, that would be hot.”

Tyranitar snorted in laughter. “N _ice_ one!”

“Nah, those would melt,” the cyndaquil quipped, checking the mailbox and finding a few pieces of paper. “Huh. What are these for?”

The rock-type arched a brow ridge, taking the sheets and examining them. “Oh, these are some recruiting forms! These are months old, though…”

“Recruitment forms for… what exactly?” Rocard inquired.

Tyranitar casually leaned against the brick fence, arm resting atop it. “Rescue teams. I thought the families in Scorched Plains knew about those?”

The cyndaquil tensed up slightly. “I'm… not actually from there. This is practically a new region for me, and rescue teams are unheard of in my hometown.”

“Ah…” Tyranitar said, glancing into the distance. “Awkwarrrd… At least you don't have any relatives here to worry about, right?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Rocard responded curtly. “So how do I sign up for a rescue team?”

“Oh, right!” the rock-type exclaimed, handing the empty forms back to the fire-type. “You fill out these forms and put 'em in the mailbox. The Pelipper Post make rounds every morning, so they'll pick these up and send them to the Rescue Admissions Department - RAD for short. Give it a few days, and you should be good to go!”

Rocard snorted at the abbreviation, though he kept his focus on the process. “Any caveats?”

Tyranitar scratched the back of his head, saying, “You're gonna need to sign up with at least one other 'mon. The Rescue Organization applies a strict buddy system for new teams to ensure no one inexperienced goes into mystery dungeons alone. Other than that, there aren't any particular restrictions I can think of.”

“That makes sense,” Rocard sighed. “I'll keep it in mind. Thank you for the info, er…”

“Something the matter?” the tyranitar asked.

“I wanna know your name,” the fire-type stated, placing the forms back into the mailbox. “It would be easier on me to be able to pick you out of a crowd of tyranitar. I'm Rocard, by the way.”

“Oh! Well, you can call me Tony.”

Rocard nodded, his mouth straining from all the smiling. “I’m very pleased to have met you, Tony. I suppose I'll go and check out the interior?”

“Likewise!” Tony beamed, making his way down the road once more. “Feel free to stay there as long as you need to! Have a good day, Rocard!”

Bowing, Rocard watched the tyranitar leave with a floatiness he hardly expected. An annoyed side of him wondered why the behemoth didn't do that in the first place.

He faced the house once more, letting out a hollow laugh. Looking at his hands - _paws_ \- he whispered, “I finally have my own place to stay in… So why do I feel so… empty?”

As much as he didn't like it, Rocard knew _exactly_ why.

Without another word, he entered the house and shut the door.

* * *

Lockjaw leered through the bush at Tyranitar, doing everything in his power not to make a sound. He watched the rock-type casually walk down the path - although to him, _nothing_ about ACT was “casual.”

When he was absolutely sure Tyranitar was out of sight, the totodile broke through the foliage and dashed in the opposite direction. _You don't see me, you don't see--_

He glanced behind himself, finding only the gravel and trees along the road. Tyranitar was long gone. _Oh. At least no one's here to watch. I think._

Lockjaw slowed down to decrease potential suspicion, though he checked his back every so often. Once his paranoia was suppressed, he inspected the inside of his scarf. A crude drawing of him with a flower brought a small smile to his face.

As he neared the first of the town's houses, the totodile let his scarf go and began analyzing the buildings and signs. _Let's see… Arachno Lane, Plain Parkway, Aquatic Arch… Where are all the fire-type houses?_

His efforts in finding a themed road proved fruitless - something he felt like he should've expected. However, one single house defied the themes: an old, fire-type home at the end of Aquatic Arch.

Lockjaw soon realized the problem with that. _That's the house ACT lives in. The one I stole the… apples from… Shit._

 _But wait,_ another part of him explained, _if Tyranitar's out of the house, the other two could be as well. That way, I can check in there for… ugh. The cyndaquil._

_But that doesn't guarantee the other two aren't still inside! I can't risk Alakazam spotting me!_

His conflicted thoughts eventually formed a semi-reliable plan: _Check through the back windows. If any of ACT sees you, run._

Approaching the dome-shaped house, the water-type looped around the back. He noticed the windows were too high for him to reach from the ground, prompting a quiet sigh. Using his claws to grip the bricks, he managed to look into the single-room home, and…

The cyndaquil was fast asleep on the lone straw bed.

Lockjaw sighed in relief. No one else was in the house. _Thank Arc… Now, what?_

He heard a snort, turning his focus back to the fire-type.

“Muh… Damn,” the cyndaquil mumbled, sitting up. “Fell asleep… I'm still like this. Ha… Heh-heh. Can't change _that_ so easily, can I…”

And just like that, he flopped back onto the bed, sleeping already.

Lockjaw narrowed his eyes, hopping down to the ground and dusting himself off. _'Still like this?’ What kind of statement is that?_

He hardly moved another inch when someone began knocking on the door. _What an annoying knock! I didn't think metal would sound bad on wood, but here we are…_

Hearing the cyndaquil stir, Lockjaw decided to eavesdrop on the potential conversation.

“Gah, I'm coming. Impatient little…”

The door opened, a new voice buzzing, “Are you the cyndaquil that helped save little Larry?”

“Yyyeah?” Rocard said. “The news sure did go fast. What of it?”

Lockjaw slid around the dome quietly, hearing a second voice - similar to the first one - chirp, “Splendid! Well, we'd like your help with rescuing two of our friends. Is Lockjaw here?”

The totodile flinched.

“Nah, haven't seen him,” Rocard stated. “But I think I'll manage.”

“No, no!” the first voice screeched. “That simply won't do! I'll accompany you to Thunderwave Caverns!”

“Mags, you _know_ why the other two are stuck there! We can't risk botching an evolution like that - what would Zapper think if you ended up fusing?”

“But _someone's_ gotta go with him! The buddy system, remember?”

Fed up with the two pokémon's bickering, Lockjaw shoved himself through the wall with his mobile scarf. “Shut up!”

Rocard and two magnemite stared at him incredulously.

The totodile paled, weakly laughing. “I'm, uh, here for the ride, too.”

“Well,” Rocard mused, grinning at the magnemite. “Guess we found our solution. You mind taking us to Thunderwave Caverns?”

While one of the magnemite's magnets drooped with annoyance, the other one cheerily beeped, “Not a problem! Follow us!”

* * *

Rocard lightly tossed a stone up and down, inspecting it each time he caught it. Glancing at the totodile next to him, he took a moment to think of something to say.

“Not in the mood,” Lockjaw growled preemptively. “Whatever you're gonna say, zip it.”

“I thought you wanted out of this,” the cyndaquil snidely remarked, flinging the rock behind himself. He slowed down, having an epiphany. “Someone told you to come back. Figures.”

Lockjaw’s breath hitched. “You… How do you even…”

Rocard shrugged dismissively, explaining, “Based on how you interacted with me, I had a feeling you wouldn’t want to associate yourself with me any longer than necessary. Yet something - some _one_ , perhaps - convinced you to join me anyways. I may not be all that special, but it’s a good thing I’m not as look as I dumb. Your reaction just solidified it for me.”

“I--Buh--” the water-type choked out, interrupting himself by groaning loudly. “Fiiine. Make it quick.”

“Well, I’ve got good news for you!” Rocard exclaimed with a bit too much enthusiasm. “I’m already done.”

He didn’t care in the slightest about the searing glare he received. What he did care about was what the totodile said next: “Wait, ‘not as look as I dumb’? _Really_?”

Rocard burst out laughing, nearly falling over in the process. “Oh my gods, it took you _that_ long to notice? Wow, I should do that more often!”

Lockjaw didn’t comment on anything else, pulling up his scarf to hide his crimson blush.

The silence droned on for a few minutes, only broken by the frequent slapping of paws on stone. Rocks jutted out at different angles, each with a slight difference in yellow hues - some even had greenish spots, which Rocard could only assume were thunderstone shards. The sun loomed over their heads, reflecting off of the magnemite.

Once they neared a large collection of stony pillars, the cheerier of the two magnemite turned around. “Alright, you two! This is the entrance to Thunderwave Caverns. Just be wary of the elekid and electabuzz there - this is the home for many of those families, and they’re _very_ territorial. Especially with all these earthquakes happening as of late… In any case, good luck!”

“Thank you,” Rocard said, wishing he could make a thumbs-up gesture. “Can’t be too careful. That advice should be handy.”

Lockjaw mumbled something indecipherable, prompting the cyndaquil to quirk a brow.

“Er, right,” Rocard continued. “Anyways, we’re going in. _Aren’t we_ , Lockjaw?”

The totodile growled softly. “ _Yes_ , Cyndaquil. Don’t call me that.”

Rocard hesitated, passing off the pause with a roll of his eyes. “Sure, sure. Let’s go.”

* * *

_”You’re sure we can’t just--”_

_“Completely. Our research can _not_ go to waste like this.”_

_“O-Of course, sir.”_

_“Now, fetch me that sneasel, boy.”_

_“Yes, sir.”_

_“Good. Now wake up.”_

_“Wh-What?”_

_“I said…”_

* * *

“Wake up already!”

Rocard jolted awake, making a confused gurgle.

“There we go…” Lockjaw sighed. “Now why did you _eat_ that sleep seed?!”

“ _That’s_ what it was?” the cyndaquil exclaimed. “I thought it was the blast seed you mentioned!”

The water-type pinched between his eyes and moaned. “How did you not know the difference between a blast seed and a sleep seed?! Even a pichu would know the difference!”

Rocard grumbled, “I’m not--...”

But then he stopped.

Lockjaw narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms. “You’re not _what_?”

Glancing around, Rocard struggled to pinpoint where in the cavern he was. “I’m not from here. Seeds like these don’t exist where I’m from. The soil’s too infertile to grow anything.”

Still glaring at the fire-type, Lockjaw exhaled after what felt like ages. “A blast seed’s skin spreads outward at the tip like an explosion. A sleep seed has dark spots all over it. Let’s go.”

Once the totodile resumed walking, Rocard mentally slapped himself. _Damn it. I nearly told him. At least I started my sentence with something easy to work with. If these mystery dungeons are as widespread as they’re supposed to be, I doubt I could fit much about Orre into a lie that easily without raising some red flags._

They continued for a bit, finding a sleeping rattata by the staircase. Rocard still had the slight urge to ask why stairs inexplicably appear, but he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he wrapped around the rattata quietly, making sure not to get in too close.

Lockjaw, however, strayed too close to the normal-type. The wild rattata’s eyes snapped open, launching itself at the totodile.

Rocard grumbled to himself, then ran up and cuffed the rodent, knocking it off its course. The normal-type didn’t seem to sustain a terrible injury like he expected - though the battle with that flaaffy made him suspect he should try some different methods.

Unfortunately, his thoughts distracted him enough to not dodge the rattata’s tackle attack, sending him reeling. “Gah!”

Lockjaw leered at the rattata, making it tremble a little. “Come on, Cyndaquil! You can’t focus on doing a _tackle_ , of all things?!”

“I’m trying!” Rocard reflexively shouted, staring down the normal-type. _C’mon, c’mon, think! How did that rattata use its tackle?_

He watched it whiff its attack against the totodile, sliding into the ground. _Oh… ‘Kay then. Bad example._

Something deep inside him clicked. A sudden burst of energy drove him forward, pouncing on the recovering rattata and sending it flying into a wall.

“Oh, _now_ you use an actual move!” Lockjaw griped. “And with its defense lowered, that’s sure to knock it out.”

As if on cue, the rattata disappeared in a golden light.

Rocard coughed at the debris that had launched from the wall. “Which floor are we on again?”

“The fourth one,” the totodile stated. “Magnemite’s buddies are on the sixth.”

Nodding, the cyndaquil ascended the stairs, Lockjaw following right behind.

* * *

“Augh, quit moving!”

“I’m trying, but in case you haven’t noticed, the currents are _fucking intense_. Kinda can’t help it.”

“You’re only making it worse!”

“And how do you plan on stopping it?”

“Well, I… Oh, someone’s coming!”

Rocard rolled his eyes at the bickering before turning the corner. “Let’s see, two magnemite stuck together on the sixth floor. Gee, how did I figure it out? It sure can’t be because this is the end of the dungeon.”

Lockjaw grumbled, complaining, “I don’t wanna see another elekid for as long as I live…”

One of the magnemite’s eye lowered its lid half shut. “Would you quit the sass and get us out of here?”

“Sure, sure,” Rocard said, waving a paw. “Just need a way back through there.”

Lockjaw shook his head defiantly, fishing something out of his pouch. “Not a chance! C’mon, where’s the freaking…”

He pulled out a turquoise orb with triumph. “There we go!”

Rocard cleared his throat. “And that is…”

“Wait, don’t tell me,” the totodile said pointedly, “you don’t have orbs where you’re from. It’s an escape orb. You’ll know the difference by its clear inside.”

“What kind of place doesn’t have orbs lying about?” the other magnemite pestered.

“ _Right_?” Lockjaw replied, mouth agape. “Apparently, the soil’s so bad they can’t grow any seeds either.”

The first magnemite snickered. “Wow, what a shitty place to live in.”

Lockjaw smirked at Rocard, but the glare that was returned melted away his amusement.

“Now, if we’re done talking about my ‘home’,” the cyndaquil seethed, “let’s use that escape orb.”

Nodding nervously, Lockjaw smashed the escape orb, a bright light enveloping everyone.

* * *

No sooner had the group returned, Rocard began walking back toward the town. Lockjaw felt a strange guilt upon noticing the cyndaquil’s attempts to hide his tears. _Geez, what did I say wrong?_

The two magnemite that had requested their aid approached Lockjaw, handing him a few coins and a reviver seed. “Thank you so much!” the optimistic one praised. “I’m glad you two weren’t that hurt--Er, where’s the cyndaquil?”

Lockjaw sighed. “He’s making his way back to his house. Pretty sure he’s ticked off.”

An awkward silence followed, all four of the magnemite looking at each other. Deciding it not worth his time to talk with them any further, Lockjaw waved goodbye to them and started walking down the path.

He gazed further ahead, hardly able to see Rocard in the distance. _He’s certainly fast. Is he really _that_ offended by what I said about his home region?_

Suddenly, an idea formed in his mind; something he almost hated. _Maybe I should spy on him, see if he says anything he wouldn’t say with others around._

And yet, the allure of this idea convinced him to go through with it.

* * *

Rocard slammed the door of the house closed, immediately stomping to a lone cushion. Gripping it tightly, he pushed it into his face and screamed. “Gods _dammit_! Can’t even try to be a proper pokémon without utterly blowing it! I thought this was a second chance!”

He threw the furniture across the room, not caring in the slightest for the bookcase it hit. “A second chance to escape from my awful human life! Was it just so bad that there wasn’t any hope of salvaging it?”

Then, he laughed. A sick, bitter, broken laugh that wracked his entire body. “This is some cosmic joke, isn’t it? I get the karmic retribution I deserved all along. Now I’m doomed to live my life as a pokémon with human memories. I-I can’t do this. What did I do in that last month?”

The stench of saltwater filled his nose. He attributed it only to the flow of tears.

Stamping a foot to the tiled floor, he didn’t bother to wipe the tears that crossed his snout. “Why can’t I remember anything about last month? Uxie must’ve been in on Arceus’ plan to fucking _ruin_ this, didn’t it? Revoking my knowledge of what horrible deed I clearly must’ve done… Despicable. Not that I didn’t deserve it…”

He let out another sobbing laugh, flopping onto the straw bed. His body shivered, complaining for a source of warmth he would never get. _Can’t escape what I’ve done, working for that damn lab._

Noticing a small utensil resting on the coffee table, Rocard quickly got up to examine it: a worn lock-pick, almost on the verge of breaking.

Then, an idea emerged. A plan so ugly, it almost shook him to his core.

Almost.

He picked up the tool and stuck it across his arm, scratching at it. A scream escaped his throat. The pain nearly made him lose his grip, but he only pressed harder.

Then he stopped. He pulled the makeshift weapon out of his arm, a sickly squelch resounding from his arm.

_If Arceus wants me to live a pained existence, then so be it._

Rocard watched the blood trickle down his arm, staining the fur and the bed red. He stared. Stared. Stared.

Where was he again?

His vision blurred…

...And all became still.

* * *

Lockjaw trembled. While he didn’t see the action take place, the piercing and the screaming was all but audible to him.

He held his scarf close, passing through the wall - and subsequently retching at the sight. The cyndaquil stabbed himself in the shoulder with a rusty lock-pick.

“No, no!” the totodile whispered frantically, gripping the fire-type by the waist. “What were you thinking?!”

The rambling came back to him in full force. _He’s punishing himself for a crime he didn’t commit. Why? Why does he think so lowly of himself? Why is he so sure of this crime? He seemed perfectly fine when we rescued Caterpie… And when we started rescuing the magnemite..._

He put his focus back onto the matter at hand. “Dad can fix you right up… Lemme just…”

Lockjaw checked his bag for any suitable cloth, finding a distinct lack of such. “Just my luck…”

He sighed, untying his mobile scarf and giving one last look at the drawing on it. A smile threatened to surface. “It’s just like you said, Daisy… That flower should help someone when they’re having a bad day…”

Wrapping the scarf around the wound, the water-type picked up the cyndaquil and started running.


	3. Ascended

Rocard sprang upright, heavily breathing. His arm ached with fervor, forcing his eyes shut every so often. _Wha… What was I doing again?_

He looked around, finding himself surrounded by many blue crystals. _Where am I? How did I get here?_

“Ah, you’re finally awake!”

The cyndaquil turned around frantically to see a dragonite - and for a brief second, a dark outline surrounded it. He blinked rapidly, and the outline was gone. “Gh… U-Uh, hey.”

“Thank goodness,” the draconid sighed. “Lockjaw rushed in with you in tow, and that wound was awfully deep. Took me half the stock of sitrus berries and most of the night to finally heal it up!”

Rocard arched an eyebrow, glancing at his arms. The events of yesterday rushed back to him, and the panic set in. “N-No… Oh, gods, no!”

He scooted back, staring straight at the dragonite and hyperventilating. “G-Get away from me! I’m--I’m dangerous!”

“To yourself, maybe, but not to anyone else!” the dragonite assured, arms outstretched. “C'mere.”

The next thing he knew, Rocard was enveloped in a hug. His lungs squeezed, but he continued struggling.

“You're gonna be okay,” the draconid whispered, stroking the cyndaquil's head tenderly. “You're gonna be fine.”

Rocard slowly relaxed, his legs going limp. He hiccupped, muttering, “You don't know what I did. _I_ don't know what I did. So why--”

“Shh…” came the reply. “Whatever you did doesn't matter. What matters is that you've rescued a child and two helpless magnemite. What matters is that you taught my son a few lessons. You're a good 'mon at heart - don't let what you think you did tarnish that.”

The fire-type sniffled, shedding a few more tears. He remained silent, but he shakily returned the embrace.

“...Are you doing better now?”

Rocard tensed up a little at the new voice. He turned his head and saw a feraligatr smiling warmly back at him. “Um… A little.”

Feraligatr laughed softly, lightly scratching underneath the cyndaquil’s jaw. “Good, good…” she said, facing the dragonite. “Is the wound good enough to take off that scarf?”

“Oh! Unfortunately, no,” Dragonite sighed. “Though if it stays on there long enough, I won’t be able to take it off without damaging the fabric.”

The large water-type nodded solemnly. “I’ll tell Jaws--”

Placing a claw on her shoulder, Dragonite shook his head. “Don’t bother. I checked only a few minutes ago - he’s sleeping like a rock.”

Rocard lifted his head to look at the draconid. “S-So what _is_ this place? Never seen this many crystals in one place since… well, ever.”

“It's a secret cove within Mystic Lake,” Feraligatr noted. “Because of the… stigma that surrounds dragon-types and their families, most of us were sent into hiding.”

“Yes…” Dragonite sighed. “ACT certainly have an iron fist over the region--”

“Okay, wait, timeout,” Rocard said, crossing his arms. “I've heard about this 'ACT’ from both you and Lockjaw at this point, yet no one told me about who they were. You mind giving me the details?”

The two larger pokémon exchanged glances, with Dragonite responding, “They're the rescue team with the highest rank among everyone else, and they also have enough access to the region to essentially get away with anything. 'ACT’, as an acronym, stands for Alakazam, Charizard, and Tyranitar.”

And suddenly, a flurry of questions arose in his mind upon putting the missing piece together. “...The fuck? So that tyranitar was the same one from ACT?! If that’s the case, why did he just give a house to me?”

“You were _given_ a house by him?!” Dragonite exclaimed, nearly dropping the cyndaquil. “Were Alakazam or Charizard around? Were you hurt?”

“Yes, no, and no, respectively!” Rocard responded, equally surprised. “I didn’t even know he was _the_ tyranitar! Hell, why would I ask you who Team ACT was if I already knew who he was? He mentioned someone by the name of ‘Char’ - which could only be a charizard’s nickname - and you just kinda… put the link between them. He was real casual, too, and he asked me how Scorched Plains was doing after the recent earthquakes… I’m not from there, I told him that, and he genuinely seemed like a nice guy. Which doesn’t really add up with what you’re saying.”

The draconid’s gaze hardened. “No, it doesn’t… What could this mean…”

Sighing, Rocard hopped out of Dragonite’s grasp. “It means we’re missing a side of the story. _Their_ story, more like. But for now, I think we should--”

“Wait,” Dragonite pleaded, staring at the fire-type’s stomach. “That symbol on your front. It’s--”

He gasped. “Dear gods, it’s--No, it _can’t_ be!”

Rocard inquisitively analyzed his stomach, noticing a glowing sign - something he recognized all too well. “Oh, _shit_. Fuck! Fan-fucking-tastic! I still have that delta shit on me!”

“You’re speaking ill of the Ascendant’s sign?” Feraligatr said, seemingly in disbelief.

“The what sign?” Rocard shouted. “I dunno about you, but where I’m from, this is a mark of _exile_! Fucking--Why is it glowing?!”

Dragonite sent the cyndaquil another thousand-yard stare. Slowly, as if unsure of his next few words, he chanted, “ _Draco descendit_.”

The delta symbol all but vanished, forcing a stutter out of Rocard. He glared between where it once was and the dragon-type that made it disappear. “What the hell…?”

“Thank goodness…” the dragonite whispered. “I thought I had misremembered. It seems as though being near two draconids brings that out.”

“But I wonder,” Feraligatr mused, eyeing the fire-type. “Where in the world would the Ascendant be exiled?”

Rocard furrowed his brow further, keeping his stare on the crystalline floor. “Where I’m from, there’s no such thing as an ‘Ascendant’. Those who desired more out of pokémon had this sign branded onto them. I… guess I was born with it, because I had obtained a higher status out of the gate.”

Dragonite looked away in thought. “Aside from the ‘branded’ part, I don’t see anything wrong with getting more potential out of others.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t look like a problem,” the cyndaquil sighed, clenching a fist. “Until you delve deeper into their research. Their methods involved cruelty - some shit about ‘closing the hearts of pokémon’ - to increase their power.”

The silence grew thick; too thick for his liking. Both of the larger pokémon exchanged glances yet again.

“I think that’s… enough I should know about,” Feraligatr tentatively stated. “Greyson, what else was in that legend about the Ascendant?”

The dragonite - whose name felt a bit strange for an orange dragon to Rocard - inspected his arms nervously. “Er, what else, what else… Oh. The Ascendant’s origin has something to do with… falling, if my memory didn’t fail me?”

Rocard tensed up. _Falling, falling. Why does that sound so familiar? Maybe I should’ve paid more attention to that officer’s ramblings…_

“I’ll go ahead and check the bookcase, then,” Feraligatr said tiredly, already on her way down one of the tunnels. “It’ll save you some time. Do you mind checking on Jaws for me?”

“Oh, alright,” Greyson replied, waving a claw dismissively. “Perhaps you would like to join me, Rocard?”

Leaning over in defeat, the cyndaquil breathed a heavy sigh. “Just give me a moment to think.”

The lack of response from either pokémon answered the request for him.

* * *

“Rise and shine, kids! You got plenty of guests here, so play nice!”

Larry jumped upright, wobbling from the sudden action. He groaned, feeling the intense amount of psychic keeping him steady. “Momma, who’s here now? Has the party already started?”

Rey smiled back at him, though it was plastered and worn by fatigue. “Dugtrio and the magnemites are here for the party, and it started a few minutes ago.”

“But what about Lockjaw or the cyndaquil?” the caterpie muttered, blinking a few times. “I wanted to talk to them.”

The butterfree’s smile tightened in an effort to stay on. “They’re, um, not available. I… couldn’t find their house, but the only house I thought they were in was empty.”

And the lie was bought with little questioning.

“Back off, draconid!”

“Hey, you get out of that stuff!”

“Just wait ‘till Butterfree gets a hit on you!”

Rey stiffened, her smile vanishing. She turned to Larry. “Stay here. Momma’s gonna take care of something real quick.”

“B-But Momma--”

“No buts! It’ll be over before you know it!”

She zipped down the stairs of the hotel, stopping in the dining hall and fiercely glaring into the crowd. “Quiet down! Move!”

When she received no response, she flapped her wings and sent a psychic blast in all directions, shouting, “ _Everybody, shut up!_ ”

Most of the partygoers backed up, those that were immune to psychic attacks doing so out of respect. One that didn’t, however…

“I-I--My apologies, ma’am, I’m just looking for a place to stay.”

Rey whipped around to give a nasty look at the one who spoke up, and--

It was him. The flygon she had once loved. “ _You._ You think you can come into this place, cause a racket with the invitees, and have the _nerve_ to pipe up like that after you’ve been gone _this_ long?!”

Several of said invitees nodded their heads in agreement up until the last statement.

“You didn’t even bother to send a letter, note, _anything_!” Rey continued, slowly approaching the flygon threateningly. “Not even something as simple as a ‘Hey, honey, sorry I’ve been gone on the trip to Mount Blaze, I just got _really distracted_ ’!”

“U-Um--”

“ _What_?!”

Taking a moment to calm down, Rey further analyzed the flygon’s expression: bright, shining red visors, a beautiful green shade, and not a glint of recognition in his eyes. Aries bowed his head timidly. “I-I’m sorry, ma’am. Do you h-have the wrong ‘mon, perhaps?”

The butterfree sagged, glancing around at the mixed expressions of the remaining crowd. “Just never show your face here again, or I can _show you how it feels to take a psychic and a psyshock simultaneously_.”

Aries hardly missed a beat, hightailing out of the dining hall with a sorrowful look. The crowd cheered, an unsurprising, yet disappointing outcome to Rey.

She used a bit more psychic to quiet down everyone. “I’m afraid this party will have to be postponed for a week. I can clean up any property damages that were caused by this… event. Hopefully, this won’t happen again.”

Barely beating her wings enough to keep in the air, she swayed in going back up to her room, the sounds of unsatisfied guests being tuned out all the while. Larry watched her with a distraught face.

* * *

Lockjaw rubbed the last of the sleep crumbs from his eyes, checking his side to see Daisy still there. He smiled, stroking the dratini’s ear fins. “Hey, Sis. Dad wants to talk to me, so I’ll be right back. M’kay?”

“B-Bwudder…” she whispered, not opening her eyes. “Be safe, ‘kay?”

“Of course,” the totodile hastily added. “I’ll be just fine!”

He glanced up at the door leading to the hallway, gaze hardening. Once he made his way down the crystalline tunnel, he took a moment to ease his nerves. _So I talk with Dad, see if the cyndaquil’s alright, and we’ll be on our merry way, right?_

_...Right?_

As soon as the shadow of his father approached the corner, Lockjaw began sweating. Greyson turned the corner, stopping upon seeing the totodile shaking. “Oh, I didn’t expect you to be here this quick. Ahem.”

“You mind if I break the news to him?” Rocard said from atop the dragonite’s head. “I have just the way to say it.”

“Be my guest!” the draconid encouraged, letting the cyndaquil onto the floor.

“Alright, alright.”

After clearing his throat and taking in a deep breath, Rocard asked, “So, what happened to the durant that climbed the stairs?”

Greyson puffed his cheeks out, barely containing his laughter. Lockjaw arched a brow ridge. “...What… happened to it?”

Rocard let out a little snicker. “He became the _Ascend-ant_!”

At that point, Lockjaw watched Greyson double over in laughter and Rocard guffaw with him. The totodile rolled his eyes, groaning. “A pun? What does that have to do with--Oh. Ohhhh.”

He pointed a claw at the cyndaquil, shouting, “ _You’re_ the Ascendant?!”

“Yeah, it surprised me, too,” Rocard said nonchalantly. “Apparently, it’s some sort of sacred role here, so… Congratulations?”

Lockjaw just kept staring at the fire-type. As he stared, Rocard gradually became more and more uncomfortable with each second.

“Y'know you can just treat me like you always do,” the cyndaquil said, forcing a smile. “I'd rather not think about the delta sign on me.”

And yet Lockjaw kept gazing.

Greyson sighed, pulling his son up into his arms. “I'll talk to him more about it. Why don't you find Gabby - my feraligatr mate, I mean - and see what she's found?”

“Ehehe,” Rocard heaved, twiddling his thumbs - or rather his arms. “Sure thing! Where's she gone?”

“Leftmost tunnel when facing away from the pool of water,” the dragonite called. “It's practically a bonafide library!”

Shifting his glance left and right, the fire-type nervously chuckled once more before walking in the opposite direction.

Greyson's warm smile disappeared, and putting down Lockjaw, he sent a stern glare at the water-type. “Son, listen. As fortunate as it is to know you've met the Ascendant, I advise you don't treat him like royalty.”

“Well, he _is_ basically that, isn't he?” Lockjaw commented.

“You're not entirely wrong,” the draconid admitted, “but from what he's told me, it made him an outcast where he used to live. Supposedly, the same symbol on his stomach was used as a logo in a cruel organization.”

Lockjaw winced. “Oh. Yikes. So he doesn't want to be reminded every time we talk about the whole Ascendant thing, right?”

“Precisely,” Greyson said proudly, though his smile faded quickly. “Like he said, just treat him like you always do. In any case, he’s far from his real home and probably misses it. Perhaps you could stay with him a couple nights, just to make sure he adjusts well enough?”

Looking away, the totodile sighed. _Now that I think about it, I wasn’t really treating him that great… Dad probably shouldn’t know that, but he probably does already. Well… Maybe I’ll _try_ to treat him better?_

The dragonite’s eyes widened, suddenly realizing something. “I almost forgot to tell you: due to the… circumstances regarding Rocard’s wound, your mobile scarf doesn’t seem to work properly; the blood all over it ruined the fabric. You sure you don’t need it?”

Lockjaw turned his head to look at his father, uncertainty painted across his face. “I dunno. By the time I saw him with a bleeding arm, I was just trying to do something to help. There weren’t any other pieces of cloth other than my scarf around, so I just…”

“That’s fine, son,” the draconid breathed out. “If you ever need another one, I’ll find a way.”

“...Thanks, Dad.”

* * *

As Rocard walked his way through the myriad of shelves, he internally sighed. _Nothing but footprint runes. At least the books are colorful._

He turned another corner, finding the feraligatr at last. “Oh, there you are. Hey.”

Gabby looked up from the book, light bouncing off her glasses. She smiled. “Hey yourself. I suppose Lockjaw knows by now?”

“Yeah… pretty much,” the cyndaquil trailed off. “He just stared at me. A-Anyways, what did you gather from the book you were looking for?”

“I just got it out,” the water-type deadpanned. “Took more searching than I’d hoped. But since you’re here, I would’ve read it to you anyways.”

Rocard rolled his eyes with a smirk. “And if you didn’t, I would’ve asked about it. Well, what are you waiting for?”

After flipping through a couple of pages, Gabby looked closer at the writing. “‘The Ascendant comes as a faller, one whose origins are different from this world’s.’ This writing is sloppier than I remember… ‘An Ascendant will only arrive at a time of world-ending danger… and their original body will drastically alter to fit in the world… No one has ever seen an Ascendant’s true form, though most claims bring up a species only known in myths.’”

The cyndaquil had a terrible suspicion that he knew what species the book was referring to. _Great. In a few seconds, she’ll know what kind of creature I used to be._

“‘These rumors never had any evidence to support the idea of any Ascendant being a former human…’ So you were a human, yes?”

Rocard sighed. “There’s no reason for me to lie about it. Yes, I was a human.”

Gabby hesitated, opening her jaw before promptly closing it. After a bit of deliberation, she said, “I see. Humans are indeed nothing more than myths here. This book goes on with something about universes and outcomes, but I never really understood it. I don’t even know anyone who could visualize what they looked like.”

“Oh, I could give some explanations, if you’d like,” Rocard suggested. “I’m pretty sure that most of it would be useless knowledge, but it’s something?”

“Please. By all means.”

“Ho boy. This will take a while. Let's see…”

* * *

Aries circled around the lake, deep in thought. _Why does this place reach out to me like this? I feel like I should know by now. Who was that butterfree? Gah, my mind hurts… Damn it._

Yet the flygon never ceased his movements. He looked at every detail, from the rocks to the water to the surrounding trees, in an endless search for a memory.

From the depths of the lake, a small dratini wiggled out, resting on top of the rocky outline surrounding the water. Aries saw this as an opportunity to ask around. “E-Excuse me, little one. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

The dratini lazily turned its head to face him, saying in a tiny, feminine voice, “You just did, Uncle Aries.”

“U-Uh, right,” he coughed, realizing the kid knew him. After mentally changing the tone for his question, he continued. “So I've been… away for a while. Do you mind telling me what's been going on around here?”

“Wellll,” the little dratini started, “Momma and Papa and Big Bwudder have a guest, and they're talking about gwown-up stuff. Big Bwudder bwought a cyndaquil, and he said he was _weally_ hurt, so I couldn't talk to him. Do you wemember your pwomise, Uncle Aries?”

Aries glanced away, masking his frustration with a small frown. “No, I didn't, sweetie. Sorry.”

“Aww!” she exclaimed. “You’d fowget your head if it wasn't attached to your neck - I learned that fwom Papa. He said you were fowgetting a lot of stuff. Do you want me to bwing you to Papa?”

The flygon hesitated. Whoever the pokémon in her family were, they knew about him _and_ his condition - though he couldn't decide whether or not this was a good thing. “Um… That would be nice.”

Squealing in delight, the dratini dove into the water. She popped her head up and faced him. “Follow me!”

Before Aries could object, she submerged herself further into the lake. The ground-dragon-type sighed, opting to sit and wait by the edge.

* * *

“...and that's all I know on the whole 'alternate universe’ thing.”

Gabby nodded her head with confusion. “It still doesn't make a lick of sense.”

“Well, I tried,” Rocard said defeatedly. “But like I said, it's usually pretty useless even if you _did_ understand the topic. Until someone invents a time travelling machine, we won't be able to prove anything about it.”

“Doesn't Celebi travel through time?”

The cyndaquil flinched. “Well… Supposedly, it does. No one - at least in my world - has seen it in centuries, let alone interact with it. I doubt we ever will, honestly.”

Something darted past him and the feraligatr, sliding across the floor with a squeal and bumping into one of the cases.

Gabby sheepishly smiled, holding a claw to stop the ongoing conversation and turning around. “Daisy! I told you no sliding around on the floor - you'll get yourself hurt!”

“Awwww, it’s fun, though!” the dratini whined. She stood more upright. “Oh! Momma! Uncle Aries is here!”

The feraligatr froze, breaking into a sweat. “I--Um, that’s nice, Daisy. Where is he right now?”

Daisy glanced around. “Oh… I guess he didn’t follow. He’s outside, pwobably.”

“That’s fine, dear!” Gabby managed to say in a higher octave, scooping up the small draconid. “I’ll go bring him in, why don’t you…”

She trailed off, frantically looking around for a distraction. Her eyes fell on Rocard. “...play with… Rocard, our guest? I’ll be back before you know it!”

Nodding excitedly, Daisy all but pounced on the cyndaquil. “Hi! You’re Wocard, wight?! Nice to meetcha’!”

“Aheheh!” Rocard strained, glancing over to the feraligatr and mouthing, “Don’t do this to me. Please.”

“It’ll only be for a little while, Rocard!” Gabby laughed, rushing out of the room.

The fire-type forced a smile, though his gaze towards Daisy portrayed fear. _Oh gods. What do I do, what do I say?_

Unfortunately, the symbol on his stomach had other plans, shining a brilliant green underneath the dratini’s scales. Rocard felt an intense pain on his back, almost as if he were being stretched thin. The pain spread all over his body, doing _something_ to him. His vision blurred, and the last thing he felt was his head impacting the stone floor.

* * *

Lockjaw straightened his back, suddenly alert. “Dad, did you feel that?”

Greyson stared down the tunnel with a forlorn expression. “Yes… That was… Oh dear.”

“Wh-What is it?” the totodile pressured, panicking. “What was that? Dad?!”

“That was the Ascendant just now,” came the reply, slow and methodical. “He has awoken.”

“Dad? Wait, awoken how?”

The dragonite picked up his son, flapping his wings and bolting for the library. When they arrived, Lockjaw noticed a tearful Daisy next to… What was it?

“A deino.”

Lockjaw looked up at his father, who had that spaced-out look to him. “W-Wait, those are rare around here, aren’t they? Where’s Rocard?”

He then saw the delta symbol etched on the deino’s neck - and stomach, and forehead, even on its tail - and did a double-take. “ _That’s_ Rocard?!”

Greyson picked up the dark-dragon-type and stared him in the eyes. “ _Draco descendit_.”

The green symbols flickered, but there was otherwise no reaction. “ _Draco descendit_. _Draco descendit_!”

Each repeat caused the symbols to flicker less and less, and Greyson’s grip loosened. He set down the deino and shook his head. “It’s too late. He’ll be stuck like this for a couple of days.”

Lockjaw gawked at the revelation, vigorously shaking the deino. “C’mon, wake up! Rocard! Wake _up_!”

Head flopping around like a ragdoll, the deino’s mouth twitched. He stirred, steadying his head and blearily opening his eyes. “Muh… Who turned out the lights?”

The totodile’s expression brightened. “There we go! You okay, Rocard?”

“Wait…” the dragon looked around, tilting his head. “...Who’s Rocard?”

_…What._

Lockjaw let go of the confused pokémon in shock. “What do you mean ‘who’s Rocard’?! _You’re_ Rocard! A few minutes ago you were a cyndaquil!”

Underneath the hair, the deino’s eyes widened. “I was?! Cool! What do I become next?”

“I--Wha--Gah!” Lockjaw sputtered. “Does ‘Ascendant’ ring any bells?! You were a cyndaquil earlier, and now you’re a deino! But--But why?!”

“...I… _think_ there was something about an Ascendant,” the draconid mumbled. “Maybe it’s got something to do with--heyyyy! Quit messing with my thoughts like that!”

Stumbling over in bewilderment, the water-type raised his arms wildly. “What’s even going _on_ at this point?!”

Greyson stepped in front of the two of them, thinking. “Hold on. By the looks of it, Rocard and this deino are--”

“Okay, okay, geez!” the deino shouted, ramming his head against a bookcase. “You don’t need to shout at me! Okay, so there’s this guy claiming to be Rocard in my head - crazy, ri--ow. Enough with the threats! Anyways, apparently we’re sharing a body now, but I’m--What did you say? I’m a clean slate? Yeah, that. Which means I basically don’t have any memories, only some knowledge on stuff.”

Lockjaw’s mind reeled from all the rambling. “So when are we getting Rocard back?”

“...Oh!” the dark-type exclaimed. “That’s one of the few things I know right now! Once the sun sets three times, it’ll switch back… or something like that. Ow--Yeah, _three days_! You’re not really making a good first impression, buddy--Ack! What do you mean, pot calling the kettle black?! Aren’t they both black--Yeow! Okay, sheesh!”

Sighing, Greyson covered his ear holes. “I believe we know enough by now. Do you have a name, young deino?”

“Nope! Rocard’s only been calling me ‘you fucker’ for the past five minutes, so I don’t think that’s it.”

Lockjaw snickered, then noticed Daisy next to him. He (belatedly) covered her ear holes. “Yeah, not in front of the baby here.”

“You fahcker?” the dratini innocently asked, prompting a heavy sigh from the totodile.

“Grown-up word, don’t say it until you’re my age at least.”

Daisy only nodded, slithering away.

Greyson picked up the deino, saying, “Well, if you don’t have a name of your own, we’ll just have to think of one. How about… Draco?”

“...How very original,” Lockjaw remarked monotonously.

“Oh, hush.”

“Actually, Rocard agrees with the totodile--Lockjaw, my bad!” the dark draconid stated. “Rocard’s suggesting Cerberus… Something about mythology or whatever--Ow! Don’t explain why the name’s like that? Wouldn’t they wanna know?”

Lockjaw and Greyson exhaled in unison.

Once he approached the deino, Lockjaw gave a half-lidded stare. “Fine. At least it’s more creative than Draco.”

He sent a shifty glare towards the dragonite. “Well… I guess we’ll need to sleep on this. What’s next, someone’s gonna burst in here and throw out another big reveal or some--”

A crash echoed through the hall, and both dragon-types glared at him.

“Wha--I was _joking_!”


	4. Silenced

Cerberus sniffed around his new surroundings, noting the abundance of salt in the air but not much else. He bumped into something soft - Greyson, that dragonite, he recalled from Rocard’s shouting - and sheepishly smiled. “Oh, sorry! Do you mind telling me where we--”

“Hush,” the dragonite said pointedly. “Aries, quit it! Calm down--! Hey!”

Tilting his head, Cerberus was tempted to ask who this Aries was. Instead, Rocard piped up, remarking, _“Can't you lift that hair off your eyes? Pretty sure you'll be able to see._

The deino lowered his head. _See? How do I do that?_

_“I--Buh--Just use your claws to lift up the hair on your head!”_

“Okay, okay!” Cerberus exclaimed, doing as instructed - and being immediately assaulted by light and colors. “Gah! Is _this_ what seeing is like?!”

Rocard loudly sighed. _“Your eyes will adjust. This only lasts for a couple of seconds. Hey, we can already make out Greyson and Lockjaw and--Oh.”_

A flygon was flailing about, screaming and clutching his head. Greyson grabbed him by the arms and held him down, while Lockjaw looked on in horror.

_“...Mayyyybe that wasn’t the best time to learn to see.”_

Eventually - over the course of ten minutes and a panicked shouting match from both sides, to be more precise - Aries somehow calmed down. As it turned out, he nearly collapsed out of fatigue. He glanced over to Cerberus and returned a frown.

“M-My apologies,” the flygon stuttered. “...I’ve been saying ‘my apologies’ a lot lately. In any case, this is likely not a good first impression.”

“First impression?” Lockjaw retorted, slapping a claw onto his snout. “C’mon, Uncle Aries! Did you lose your memories or some--”

“Yes, he did,” Greyson stated simply, giving his son a stern glare. “As for his reaction upon seeing Cerberus, that’s what happens when you encounter the altered Ascendant with no prior preparedness.”

Gabby took in several deep breaths, ending the last one with a forced smile. Through gritted teeth, she asked, “So, tell me, Greyson. Why didn’t you _warn us_ that the Ascendant was in his alternate state _before_ I came back with Aries?”

“Aheh,” the dragonite choked out, glancing to the side. “Daisy apparently got too touchy with Rocard.”

The feraligatr sniffed dramatically, clasping her claws together. “ _Right_. Now that the worst is over, our family should have one big _talk_. How does that sound?”

Looking around each of everyone’s expressions, Cerberus took particular note of Greyson and Lockjaw’s terror. Daisy, however, appeared oblivious to the whole thing, instead looking at the deino and whispering, “I thought you would look like a good dwagon…”

Rocard displayed his bemusement the best he could. _“Fat lot of good that did. Now the attention’s funneling back to me again.”_

 _What’s wrong with a little attention?_ Cerberus mused, arching an eyebrow.

_“Take a look at my memories and ask me that again.”_

_Uh-huh… Let’s see here--Oh. Well. Um._

_“Thought so.”_

Gabby turned to Aries and Cerberus, her strained smile twitching. “We'll be right back. _Don't break anything_ , you hear?”

“Er, r-right,” the flygon said, sweating under her gaze. “Don't break anything.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Cerberus muttered, lowering his arms and realizing they started cramping.

The sound of footsteps dwindled, and the deino could only assume the others had left. He glanced toward where he thought the flygon was, weakly smiling.

“You're, um, facing the wrong way,” Aries noted. “Maybe we c-could find something to keep your hair away from your eyes?”

 _“Huh, why didn’t I think of that?”_ Rocard said, a laugh bubbling within Cerberus’ mind. _“Probably because I’ve never seen a deino with a headband before. Come to think of it, I haven’t even seen a deino’s eyes either. Once we get a headband, first thing we need to do is look in the mirror.”_

 _You’re sounding awfully happy,_ Cerberus observed. _First time I’ve actually sensed good feelings from you._

_“That’s probably because I’ve been pissed off at the fact that my body has to be shared with somebody I hardly know. Oh, and I can’t do anything but talk in your head, so that puts a damper on what I can actually do. Once I turn back into a cyndaquil - which, if you haven’t already known from looking into my memories, isn’t even the form I’m used to - you’re probably not going away, so there’s no way I can actually avoid your presence from now on. But hey, at least I get to know what a deino’s eyes look like. What a trade.”_

Cerberus’ head drooped. _We can’t even be friends?_

Rocard scoffed at the very notion, imagining himself rolling over on a couch. _“Well, I don’t think someone who has the gall to take control of my body, change it to their liking, and then claim ignorance to such doing is worthy of being ‘friends’ with me. I happen to like it when I have control of my body, thank you very much.”_

The deino sighed. _I told you already, I don’t know how I got here. All I remember is some green light shining everywhere, and here I am._

Aries tapped the smaller draconid’s shoulder. “Uh, hellooo? Is something the matter? I got this scarf and placed it in front of you, but you were just standing there.”

_“Ugh. Really? You place something in front of an essentially-blind quadruped and expected a reaction… I’m surrounded by idiots.”_

“My bad,” Cerberus said, nervously grinning. “Could you help me put it on? I don’t think my claws are good for this sort of thing.”

“Oh, of course!” the flygon stuttered, softly wrapping the cloth around Cerberus’ eyes and pulling it up, making sure not to leave any tufts strapped underneath. “And… There! Um, is that suitable?”

Looking around, the dark draconid took in the various blues of the crystal cavern. He smiled. “Yeah, that’ll do. I’ll go look for a mirror real quick, see how I look.”

“...A mirror?”

“Er, yeah?” the deino affirmed, tilting his head. “Whatever that is.”

 _“Are you fucking kidding me right now?”_ Rocard grumbled, wishing he could move around to further amplify his frustration. _“Imagine looking into the water and seeing your face. Now imagine being able to do that just about anywhere, at nearly any angle. And with glass, but other surfaces work. Mirrors are _designed_ for that. Tell Aries that before the ignorance spreads.”_

“O-Oh, I just recalled what a mirror is now!” Cerberus stated with a cracking voice. “It’s something that you look into to look at your own face, like looking into the water! Speaking of, there’s some water right now, so I’m just gonna check! Right! Now!”

Before he could properly study Aries’ confused expression, he briskly walked over to the nearby body of water and peered into it. The deino’s reflection showed a red headband pushing his hair awkwardly to reveal bright green eyes.

 _“Okay, hold up,”_ Rocard demanded. _“Pretty sure a hydreigon’s eyes have a black sclera and red pupils. If I didn’t already figure out the reasoning behind your different eyes, I’d probably be banging my head in search for the answer.”_

Cerberus narrowed his eyes. _And that is…_

_“I have green eyes, too… though you have a black sclera like many hydreigon, whereas mine are white, like most creatures. I think. Chances are I have green eyes as a cyndaquil, too, but the squinting makes it hard to tell. And I haven’t really looked in a mirror since I got here. Come to think of it, the delta symbol is also green… which now brings me to think that’s not just a coincidence, if there’s a bunch of symbolism - heh - to this shit.”_

Sighing, the deino kept staring at his reflection.

* * *

“--and now what do we do? Draconids are strictly forbidden entry in the Square - Rocard won’t be able to return to that house until this altercation blows over! We can’t keep him _here_ , either; we already have enough on our plate--”

Lockjaw groaned, desperately wishing he could just tune out his mother’s ramblings. _I can hardly think over her. Hate it when she’s like this._

“--but even if Cerberus were allowed in for some unholy reason, he'd immediately get assaulted for the many symbols on him! Worse, the symbols are visible to _everyone_ at this point! How would he or Rocard be able to answer the inevitable questions that neither of them have any answers for? Surely, by now--”

Daisy lifted her tail up. “M-Momma--”

“Not now, Daisy!” Gabby all but screeched, immediately regretting her tone. “Um--Right. What was it, sweetie?”

“What about ACT?”

The silence that ensued only amplified both the feraligatr and dragonite's mortified reactions. “What?!”

“Daisy, you _know_ those are evil guys, right?!” Lockjaw squeaked. “How would they help?”

On the verge of tears, the dratini uttered, “The chawizard and ty-nitar look like dwagons… wight?”

Greyson sighed with slight frustration and kneeled down. “Unless they were raised by draconids, I doubt that they would recognize the Ascendant's marks. At least you're looking for an option!”

Lockjaw couldn't help but feel the comment was directed toward him in particular.

“In any case, we should contact some of the other draconids,” Gabby stated. “You remember where Taley’s place is, Greyson?”

“Way past Mount Steel,” the dragonite scoffed. “It would take a few days to walk, and I highly doubt her old wings could handle carrying a passenger. Doesn't help that her cotton's been stiff as of late.”

The motherly water-type exhaled. “Right. How about Hawes?”

“Ah, Southern Isle. Less than a day, but there's a little problem called water. Lots of it. Not a good idea for a fire-type.”

“Then what do _you_ suggest?” Gabby demanded with a scowl.

“Farrah over by Dragon Cave?” Greyson suggested. “She's closer to town, her place is even _harder_ to find, and it's been a while since I met up with my sister. She's the perfect candidate!”

Lockjaw groaned. _And she's got rabid children. I'm not going back there if I can help it!_

“Oh, come now, Jaws,” the dragonite laughed, as if knowing the meaning behind his son's reaction. “I'll make sure she won't sic her kid on you. Like I told you before--”

“‘That's how bagon greet each other,’” the totodile droned. “I can already feel my snout hurting…”

Greyson chortled, giving the small water-type a noogie. “Eh, they'll warm up to you. C'mon. I'll go get the old machine started, tell your aunt about these developments.”

“I'll talk with Aries some more and maybe jog his memory a little,” Gabby said.

Lockjaw raised a claw toward his mother. “I'll get Roc--Er, Cerberu--...the Ascendant.”

Finally, Daisy approached Greyson. “I wanna talk to Auntie Fawrah.”

“Good! Then it's settled,” the dragonite proclaimed, picking up his daughter. “Team Snapper, let's go!”

“Someone sure is peppy,” Gabby muttered, ushering Lockjaw alongside her.

* * *

Tony could hardly remember the feeling at this point. It was but a dull throb in the back of his mind after only a few hours, and the only urge he noticed brewing within him was to visit his long-lost mate.

The urge distracted him just enough to keep him from properly reviewing the stack of registration forms. _Damn… Come on, Tony, you can search for her later. Papers, please._

He jerked his head around, shaking his thoughts straight and working through each page.

By the time the tyranitar finished roughly half the stack, Char stopped by the doorway and leaned on the frame. “Still at those papers, I see. I can take care of those.”

“What, you don't think I can handle a couple of sheets?” Tony joked, eyes still on the paper.

“Maybe if something's been on your mind long enough,” the fire-type returned, looking his teammate in the eye. “So what's up?”

“Sheesh, straight to the point,” the tyranitar commented, putting his clawful of papers down. “I had this strange feeling an hour or two ago, and I got the urge to continue looking for my mate. Haven't really shaken it off yet.”

Char hummed with agreement. “Come to think of it, I had a sudden urge to go find some garchomp - Sandra, probably - even though my relationship with her was a mere one-night stand. Your mate's that salamence, right?”

“Yeah,” Tony affirmed. “I don't remember the specifics of that feeling, but maybe it had something to do with her dragon typing?”

“Huh, me too,” Char noted, positioning himself closer to the rock-type. “This might just be more than a coincidence. Not that we can really do anything about it.”

Placing a note on the tyranitar’s desk, Char said, “Though that’s not what I’m here for. This note’s from that dugtrio over by Mount Steel Mines. Apparently his son’s been kidnapped, and he’s insisted on requesting some guy named Rocard for help. This cyndaquil supposedly helped rescue Rey’s son and a couple of magnemite, but Dugtrio can’t find him.”

“Oh!” Tony exclaimed, nearly standing up. “I remember now! You know that house we borrowed before we went to talk with Whiscash? Since we had no more use for it, I gave it to Rocard instead of requesting a demolition!”

“Really now?” the charizard deadpanned. “Far be it from me to criticize, but what made you simply give it to a stranger?”

Tony faltered, looking at his papers. “There was just… something about him that really stood out to me. He’s supposedly from out of the region - a place where rescue teams aren’t a thing, in fact - and hadn’t found a home up to that point. I just wanted to do something nice for him as a sort of welcome. Something else was there to convince me, but at this point, I forget what it was.”

Sighing, Char leaned back towards the wall. “...It’s better than letting that old house rot, I guess. Anyways, think you could calm that dugtrio down? I don’t think we’re gonna waste our efforts sending out a search party for a single cyndaquil, no matter how great he is.”

He mumbled something indecipherable under his breath, and the tyranitar could've sworn he saw the faintest tint of red forming on the charizard's cheeks. Looking straight at him didn't clarify that suspicion, though, so he decided not to bring it up.

“Fine,” Tony muttered. “Better than sitting down and reading these papers.”

* * *

_“So now that it’s been given a gauge… Tana, hit it.”_

_“Yessir.”_

_A sharp sting hit his back, unleashing a screech from his throat._

_“Good. Again.”_

_A second, worse pain stretched across his back. Then a third. Then another. His mind repeated the same word, as if it brought solace to this torment. _Kill. Kill. Kill.__

_“The readings say the gauge is almost full. You know what to do.”_

_The sound of a whip cracked. He turned around and snapped the leather clean off. _Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!__

_“S-Sir?”_

_“Ah, yes, hyper mode. The sedate, if you will?”_

Rocard screamed.

He launched himself upward, stumbling around with only one desire. _Run! Run away! Come on, faster!_

Tripping over the uneven floor, he slammed into the ground, breath quickening by the second. _Come on! Stupid body, can’t even--_

He could make out a dragonite walking by, and the aura flashed in his panicked mind. _Nonono, it’s here!_

But his body hardly budged. The dragonite approached him, lifted him up, and said, “Are you okay? I saw you stumble around in a frenzy and then fall over. You, uh, need some water? Food?”

Rocard’s breathing slowed, his memory gradually working properly. “U-Uhhh, yeah? I guess I had some nightmare.”

He glanced down at his body, noticing he still had the dark tufts and blue legs of a deino. _The hell? Did I just manage to gain control of it or something?_

_“Oohhhh… Man, am I tired. Yoo-hoo, Rocard? Where’s the big meanie in my head?”_

_Uh, Cerberus?_ Rocard asked. _I thought you were piloting this body. You sound like the voice in _my_ head, now._

_“Muh… I can’t feel my legs? But I can see just fine?”_

“Well, since it’s around supper time,” Greyson started, “would you like a tamato soup? Rindo-wacan mix? Sitrus pie?”

“Sitrus pie sounds good,” Rocard uttered. “Maybe add a few pechas into the blend?”

The dragonite smiled. “I’ll see if I have any. It’ll be ready in maybe thirty minutes, Cerberus!”

“Uh--But wait--”

And the large draconid had already turned the corner, out of earshot.

Rocard stomped one foot to the ground, wincing at the pain that started near his shoulder. _Fucking great! Now what do I do? How do I even explain all this to the others?_

Cerberus mentally poked him. _“Maybe I could have a go and--”_

_And lose all sense of a body? No thanks! Gods, why couldn't this shit just split us up instead of adding you and changing my body a second time?_

_“B-But--”_

“No, I'm done talking with you!” Rocard shouted, kicking a loose pebble. “Holy hell, do I just want my thoughts to be mine!”

He rushed in the direction he thought Greyson had gone. However, the room he ended up in was mostly empty. A large machine with the design of a metagross idled near the opposite wall. Rocard tilted his head, curiously approaching it. “Now what's this?”

Upon closer inspection, he realized it was some sort of… phone? It couldn't have been a computer due to the lack of a screen, but the machine was certainly large for a phone. _I guess technology hasn't quite advanced that much, yet… though it’s pretty damn impressive that this world's not that far behind._

Rocard looked the bulky contraption over one last time before heading out the room. He could make out Gabby's massive appearance down the hallway, as well as Lockjaw perched atop her shoulder.

The feraligatr seemed to have noticed him, too - which, admittedly, wouldn't be too difficult with the glowing symbols all around his body. “You're up. That's good! Lockjaw told me you wouldn't wake up, so I thought we'd try again in an hour or so.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Rocard said, looking away. “I had this nightmare…”

“You got something in your eyes, Cerberus,” Lockjaw noted. “Were they always mostly white? Maybe I'm just forgetting.”

“Er, I don't think that's a coincidence,” Rocard stated. “I think sometime before I woke up, Cerberus and I… switched control, somehow?”

Lockjaw sighed. “At least you're not a naïve goody two-shoes like the other guy.”

“Ha! Yeah…”

A spot of guilt embedded itself in the pit of Rocard's stomach. He wasn't sure what made him feel this way: the fact that he felt guilty or the idea that it wasn't _his_ guilt.

Gabby looked down in thought. “I think that was mentioned in that book…”

“Does it say how?” the former human interrogated, staring straight at her.

“What, do you think being Ascendant comes with a manual and some tools? Whatever you did to switch around like that is probably the most you got.”

Rocard rolled his eyes, deciding to drop the subject. “Well, Cerberus has a black sclera, so these eyes more than likely change color based on who’s in control… and now I can’t help but feel unnerved if he takes control of my cyndaquil body.”

Lockjaw shivered. “Yeesh. Thanks for the image.”

“You’re welcome,” the deino sarcastically returned. “So now what? I was looking for Greyson, since he’s apparently cooking supper.”

A rumble shook the hallway, accompanied by a wailing siren. Gabby immediately brushed past Rocard, going into the room he just left and picking up a portion of the machine. “Hello? Oh, hello, Farrah… Yes, we’re still making those arrangements. What has my mate told you about the situation so far? ...Alright… I see…”

Rocard’s heart had never beaten so fast. If he could stand on two legs naturally, he was sure he'd be clutching his chest. _What the hell? _That’s_ what the phone does when it rings?! ...Actually, that kinda makes sense. If there’s only one phone in a gigantic place like this, it’d have to be pretty damn loud in order to reach the ear holes of the guys further away. Doesn't make it any less terrifying._

He listened for any potential noise his co-host would utter in his mind, expecting a question… and hearing nothing. _Gah, it's for the best. He's better off quiet than constantly asking dumb questions._

Yet his gut berated him for how blatant of a lie that was.


	5. Redeemed

Tony rubbed against his temple in frustration. “Look, I _know_ you're looking for Rocard and Rocard alone. Is there any reason why you're requesting him in particular?”

“Have _you_ seen a fire-type within the town that isn't that charizard?” Dugtrio retorted, shifting in the dirt angrily. “My son's been kidnapped by a _steel-type_! A skarmory, more precisely, so I couldn't hit it even if I tried!”

“And an electric-type wouldn't work because…”

“All those shockers are on _something_ , dude,” the ground-type grumbled. “Talking to them is like trying to convince a magikarp not to flop, so I just don't bother.”

Tony mumbled incoherently to himself, mostly as a way to vent his irritation. “Right, okay. As I've said _multiple_ times, nobody's seen Rocard since yesterday. He could just be doing some other missions that take a while to get to, so _get in line_. Did that skarmory have any intent of hurting your son?”

“She yelled something about us diglett and dugtrio being the cause of all these earthquakes lately,” Dugtrio scoffed. “Sounds like someone with dungeon sickness. Not even a group of dugtrio could make earthquakes _this_ strong--”

“But did she look like she wanted to hurt your son?” the tyranitar repeated without batting an eye.

Dugtrio faltered. “Well, I couldn't exactly tell--”

“Then he's not in immediate danger. Rocard will be back, but he needs _time_ to do so; something you don't seem to be willing to give.”

“Why, I never--” the ground type exclaimed, but he shrank back at the glare. “Er, I mean, I never thought about that! I'll wait until he comes back! Ha-ha! Ha…”

Though there was no visible mouth, Tony could tell the dugtrio's smile would've been shaky at best. The ground-type buried into the dirt, a slight lump of earth forming in his wake.

Tony sighed, feeling a rumble in his bag. He took out his golden badge and clicked on the button, flipping open its upper half. “Yo.”

“Hey, Tony,” Char greeted from the speaker, “You got a minute?”

“Just finished dealing with Dugtrio,” the rock-type said, boredly inspecting his free claw. “What's up?”

“You said you handed this Rocard guy a rescue team form?”

“Yeah? What about it?”

There was a slight pause, and some shuffling could be heard in the background. “Yeah, there aren't any forms with his name on it. Pelipper even said he didn't receive a single letter from that house since we stopped staying in it.”

Tony's eyes widened a bit. “So he hasn't made a team yet.”

“Seems like it--”

Something zipped around, high in the sky, and made a cracking boom. Tony glanced up into the mostly cloudless orange sky, finding some figure flying across it. He couldn't make out a shape or color, but he had a sudden foreboding take root. “I'll call you back. Something seems to have come up.”

He snapped the badge shut before he could hear a rebuttal.

* * *

Rocard stared into the distance, frozen in shock. He felt the need to puke. _If I go on a mach five ride on a dragon again, it'll be _TOO SOON_._

The former human noticed Lockjaw experiencing a similar reaction. “Ugh… Dad, couldn't you have gone a _little bit slower?”_

Greyson had that steely gaze - which Rocard suddenly mused was why the dragonite's name wasn't about the orange scales. “There were fewer clouds than I thought. I'd rather we got here as soon as possible and avoid getting caught.”

 _Yeah, and making me deaf in the process is probably not a good way either,_ Rocard almost seethed. _A sonic boom isn't exactly silent._

“So here's Dragon Cave, boys,” Greyson stated, pointing to the giant maze of caverns. “...Well, among the many other homes of pokémon.”

He then leaned closer to the two, whispering, “Now, Cerberus and Rocard, neither of you learned this from me, and Jaws, I feel that you should get a reminder: most of the residents here don't know where Dragon Cave is. We will go around and take an alternate entrance to avoid suspicion, but we're gonna need to cover those markings on you, Cerberus.”

Rocard slowly nodded, still recovering from the nausea. “R-Right… What material should we use?”

“I went ahead and got these out of a drawer near the kitchen,” Greyson said, pulling out a few rolls of gauze from his small satchel. “A couple of layers should do the trick. I also have that pie ready in here, if you wanna eat some now.”

“Er, thanks,” Rocard stammered, “but I, uh… I lost my appetite. Save the pie for later, will you?”

The dragonite blinked, then chuckled a little. “If I had seen your eyes before, I'd think you were Rocard right now and not Cerberus.”

“Uh, actu--”

“Now,” Greyson stated, cutting off Lockjaw and pulling some gauze, “let’s begin.”

* * *

The process was awkward, to say the least.

Rocard struggled in Greyson's grasp upon finding out one of the marks was near his rump. Lockjaw held back an amused snort, but the terrified gaze the deino displayed made him find the situation a bit less than comical.

Fiddling with an old spare scarf around his neck, the totodile scratched underneath his jaw. _Gods, that itches! No wonder I never wore any other scarves…_

Once the whole operation was done, Lockjaw gave Rocard a lookover. “You, uh, look…”

“I look like I spent the last few days in a hospital,” the deino muttered. “Save whatever compliment you have for a better time.”

Greyson brought the other two around, making sure to stick close to the foliage as much as they could. The sun had almost completely set, but the dragonite checked all around himself multiple times before finally leading the group to a rather desolate corridor.

He ducked under the low ceiling, grunting. “Alright, you two. It’s gonna get pretty dark in here, so we’ll mostly need to feel our way.”

Rocard’s attention went to the other occupant of his mind. _Hey, you could do something useful…_

He squashed the urge to add, “for once.”

_...Mind helping out in feeling around? Since you’re used to the dark, I have a feeling… you would… help out…_

The radio silence in his mind disappointed him. _...Uh, please?_

_“...”_

Right then, he began to feel numb. All he could tell was that Cerberus was there in his mind. _Oh, so _now_ you do some…_

And suddenly, he couldn’t move. _“...Well, shit. You couldn’t have at least told me the right directions or something?”_

Cerberus didn’t respond to him, only prodding Lockjaw and Greyson. “Where do we need to go?”

“Right, left, left, and then straight,” the dragonite said. “Assuming I can even feel where the halls connect.”

“No need,” Cerberus stated. “I’m pretty sure I can find the right path. Just keep me in sight.”

In what little light there was left, Lockjaw narrowed his eyes at the deino. He whispered, “Rocard?”

The dark-type didn’t acknowledge the question, only walking further ahead.

* * *

Tony ambled down the rocky path from Mount Steel, silently thanking the teleport machine. He watched the last of the sun’s rays vanish from the horizon, and his body shuddered from the lower temperature. His senses tingled with something else, something he couldn’t pinpoint still.

All he needed to do was arrive at the cave of onix and steelix. What was so hard about that? _Why do I feel like I’ve been there before?_

The tyranitar slowed, eyes fixated on the ground. He couldn’t have stayed in that cave before; the ores there wouldn’t have been enough to keep him healthy - but what made him so sure of that? _Maybe I should think about it more when I actually _get_ there._

And yet, he couldn't stop thinking about his mate.

Seeing the expansive system of caves in the distance, Tony hastened his pace. He noticed the multiple entrances and sighed. _A little trial and error might be needed here… Joy._

He decided to go with the darkest entrance first, a detail he vaguely remembered being on the northwest side. The faint scent of saltwater graced his nostrils and, with it, the sense of foreboding.

Keeping his claw slightly on the left wall, the rock-type began his attempt at walking through the dark maze.

Tony heard a buzzing, tearing him from his concentration. He took out the badge again, clicking the button, but he kept it like that for a few seconds. The ringing stopped, but he held it for a little longer and heard a blip. _There we go. I'll turn it back on when I don't risk getting caught._

He redoubled his efforts to focus on getting through. The saltwater smell faded as he walked straight. He then turned around and grazed his claw on the other wall.

Then, his claw felt nothing but air, and the scent returned. _Off to a good start, I suppose._

* * *

Lockjaw had to squint his eyes when he saw the end of the maze and how brightly lit it was. As the group approached the entrance to the giant chamber, he braced for the impact of his cousins.

The stampede of four bagon ran towards the group and…

...They all ganged up on Cerberus, who flopped onto the ground from the bombardment of dragon-types. “Ack! Hey, quit it! Ow, my head!”

Greyson chuckled, picking up two bagon with each arm and hugging them tight. “You know your mother wouldn’t appreciate you four hurting the Ascendant, don’t you? What wild children you lot are, ha!”

The largest of the bagon glared up at him. “We were greeting him, Uncle Greyson! Come on, let us go!”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s been greeted enough,” the dragonite stated mirthfully, putting them down. “Go let your mother know we’re here, why don’t you?”

“No need for that, bro.”

A salamence waltzed from the balcony, flaring her red wings. “Don’t worry, Ascendant - my kids may be stubborn, but they’ll listen to their mother when the time comes.”

“They get that from their mother,” Greyson muttered jovially, purposefully making sure the salamence could hear.

“Oh, hush,” Farrah returned in a similar manner, sobering as she turned her gaze back to Cerberus. “I have a room ready for you and Lockjaw… Don’t worry, Jaws, I childproofed the doorway! You won’t be getting any bedtime bumps from these kids. I hope.”

Lockjaw’s cheeks flushed, and he covered his face with the raggedy red scarf and grumbled into it.

The blue flying-type laughed at the reaction. “Kidding! I made sure they’ll know not to mess with either of you!”

“You better…” the totodile mumbled, letting go of the scarf. “So, I remember you told me about your mate the last time I was here. Would you continue the story?”

Farrah’s smile faded, her wings drooping slightly. “Ah, um. In a moment. I’ll put the kids to bed.”

In an attempt to lighten her sudden change in mood, she half-smirked at Greyson. “That means you, too, little bro.”

“Aw, I wanna listen!” the dragonite whined overdramatically. “It’s only been fifteen years since I last heard it! Oh, woe is me!”

“Yeah, yeah, enough of the waterworks,” Farrah snarked, picking up her children and taking them into one of the bedrooms upstairs.

Lockjaw noticed the confused look Cerberus gave him. “Oh, yeah… Aunt Farrah never told me who her former mate was. What I remember was that he went on some trip to Mount Freeze and never came back. She’s… gotten over him. I don’t think she would love him back anymore, even if he’s really alive.”

Cerberus sighed. “Well… Ouch. Poor guy. If he’s still around, that would really sting, wouldn’t it?”

A flicker of green danced around the corner of Lockjaw’s eye, but it disappeared as quickly as he turned around. The deino also seemed to have noticed, and the shrug he sent to the water-type only confirmed it.

* * *

_So… she doesn’t love me anymore?_

Tony’s heart sank with the guilt. Sure, the mission took a long time, but the threats he received convinced him that Farrah and her children were…

 _This has been all one big misunderstanding!_ he defiantly thought before slumping over. _...But I don’t think I can make it up to her. Fifteen years… All of it was spent dedicated to ACT. If she’s living here… What should I say to Alakazam? To Char? Farrah just wouldn’t be convinced that I love her at this point._

He resignedly peeked around the corner one last time, but something strange occurred when he did: the totodile - _Lockjaw_ , son of his team’s opposition - unravelled the bandages around the deino’s legs and revealed strange symbols glowing a brilliant green.

Tony silently gasped. That symbol… He _had_ seen it before. _Rocard’s stomach had that delta symbol. It was barely glowing, though… Is this what being the Ascendant does to you, Rocard?_

And then a sudden epiphany popped in his head. _He _lied_ to me._

The tyranitar started forming an idea. He brought out a few pieces of paper and began hastily filling out the boxes. In addition, he pulled out two unused badges - specifically configured for potential recruits of Team ACT - and flipped them open. He took out one last thing: a lock pick. Sticking it in a tiny hole in one badge, he “reset” the configuration, and its golden color faded to that of a pink-and-white pattern.

Tony did the same thing for the other badge, then grouped them together. Hesitating on the species’ names, he instead went to fill out the rest of the form. He looked at the slot for the team name registration. _Oh, shit. I shouldn’t fill that out for them both--I’ll just put Rocard’s deino form as a co-leader… They should decide on a team name, but… they’re more than likely going to oppose me, especially when Farrah tells them that I supposedly ‘abandoned’ her._

He scowled at the term. _She abandoned _me_! I want to make up to her, but I know her well enough to know she wouldn’t let me. If only I could find some way to redeem myself to..._

His eyes widened. _That’s it._

With a smile, the rock-type wrote down, “Team Redemption.”

_Perfect. Now…_

Tony flipped open the first blank badge and aimed it on the papers set side by side. The badge beeped. “ **Form accepted. Rescue Team Redemption. Leader: Rocard, Cyndaquil. (Co-Leader: Deino, Deino.) Associated Partner(s): Lockjaw, Totodile. Confirming partner…** ”

He moved the second badge closer to the first one. “ **Partner confirmed. Welcome, Lockjaw. Generating footprints…**

A footprint appeared on the back of both badges, one resembling a cyndaquil’s being on the one that was open. “ **Footprints generated. Have a nice day--Rocard, and--Deino.** ”

Sighing in relief, Tony flipped the badge shut, grouped it with the other one, and tossed it in the direction of the home. He made sure it attracted the attention of Rocard and Lockjaw before sneaking away.

Once he had traveled far enough into the maze, the tyranitar used his golden badge to warp back to his base.

* * *

Cerberus stared at the badges with confusion. “What are these? Did you see who put them here?”

Lockjaw narrowed his eyes. “These are slightly scratched up. Whoever had these didn't just place them. Since these weren't here when we arrived, they had to have been thrown.”

“...Who threw these things, then?”

“They're badges,” the totodile groaned, “and I don't _know_ who threw them!”

Cerberus picked up one of the badges, and it buzzed. “ **Welcome, co-leader--Deino. Current RP--zero. RP required to advance--fifty. You have--one--unread message.** ”

The deino sighed, and he heard Rocard tell him, _“Gods dammit, there better not be spam messages here! Just get it over with and have a read.”_

Lockjaw raised a brow ridge. “Why doesn't it have your _real_ name, Cerberus? If this is something legitimate, what's the team name?”

Cerberus tilted his head. “Yeah, weird… Uh… How do I find the team name?”

“ **This badge belongs to Rescue Team--Redemption.** ”

He thought on the name a little. “I guess this mystery 'mon just filled it in for us. Redemption, huh…”

Rocard hummed. _“Seems like a decent name, at least. This technology's more advanced than most phones I've seen; almost like this has an AI of its own! I'd like to meet whoever designed this!”_

“ **Wishful Thinking AI was developed by an anonymous scholar and adapted by Alakazam of Team ACT.** ”

All three went silent. Rocard made a shuddering noise. _“Oookay, I was _not_ expecting that. At least that answered my question?”_

Lockjaw stared at the deino, gobsmacked. “Di-Did it just read your thoughts? I don't like that.”

“ **This device uses psychic waves mimicking that of telepathy to answer questions from pokémon that cannot speak. Would you like to disable this feature?** ”

“ _Yes_!” came the unanimous answer.

“ **Telepathic communication disabled for--Deino--Rocard, and--Lockjaw. Additional settings can be changed in the display menu.** ”

Cerberus and Lockjaw sighed in unison. The draconid then said, “How about we--”

“Hey, you two!” Greyson called from atop the stairs. “Farrah's kids are asleep… but Farrah herself crashed onto her bed and fell asleep, too. I'll get you both to your room.”

The deino nodded, whispering to the badge, “How do I keep you on standby?”

A small interface appeared underneath the upper lid, showing a volume percentage quickly decrease from one hundred to thirty percent. “ **To put a badge in sleep mode, close the lid of the badge's emblem. Take proper care in closing, as substantial amounts of pressure can--** ”

Cerberus closed the device and looked back up toward the twin staircases. “We're coming!”

* * *

No sooner had Tony returned, he went straight for the mini-dojo. He slammed his fist onto the nearest punching bag with a ferocious yell. The tyranitar beat up the bag into submission, almost tearing it open. “Arceus _dammit_! She's been _alive_ all this time, and--!”

He kicked the bag, knocking it clean off its stand. “And after all those years, she _doesn't love me_ anymore?!”

His body collapsed onto the floor, stomach down, heavily breathing.

Footsteps clicked against the tiled floor around the corner, echoing through the dojo. Char turned the corner, seeing Tony in a mess and promptly rushing to him. “Tony, are you--”

“No, I'm not fine!” the tyranitar shouted, voice cracking. “Farrah's _alive_ , Char - she's alive, and _her love for me is gone_! How could I be _fine_?!”

Char straightened up in shock. “But… then that means…”

“Alakazam _lied_ to us, Char!” Tony finished, pounding a fist on the tile and cracking it. “Why… Why would he _do_ that?”

Looking away, Char furrowed his brow. He then looked back to the rock-type, who had started sobbing. The fire-type frowned, empathizing with his teammate but ultimately unable to help other than patting him in silence.

As unfortunate as the situation was, the charizard felt butterfree fly in his stomach. His disgust grew in an attempt to quash this newfound feeling. _One step at a time, Char._

* * *

Cerberus shifted in the fluffy bed, noticing Lockjaw was as restless as him. “What's up?”

The totodile glanced at him, flustered. “It's nothing, Cerberus. Go to sleep.”

“But aren't you tired?” the dark-type asked, oblivious to the fact they were in the same bed. “...Anything you wanna talk about?”

Lockjaw sighed. “...Yeah, fine. Who do _you_ think would've given us these badges? You'd think they could've snuck up on us and tried to kidnap us or whatever, right?”

Cerberus gazed into the ceiling. “Well… It could've been someone important. I dunno what this whole 'rescue team’ business is all about.”

The water-type narrowed his eyes at the draconid. “Could you get Rocard to talk to me? I'd rather talk with someone who knows more about this.”

Tensing up, Cerberus shook his head. “N-No.”

“... _No_?” Lockjaw repeated. “I may not have a second 'mon in my body, but I'd think he'd get lonely if he doesn't get a chance to talk with someone other than you.”

 _“Ha… Pretty observant, he is,”_ Rocard said, a twinge of cynicism cropping up. _“And not even _you_ respond to anything I say now.”_

 _That's because _you_ wouldn't try to become my friend!_ Cerberus argued, scowling. _You aren't nice to me, so why should I be nice to you?_

 _“I don't want to be your friend because you basically invaded my body!”_ Rocard stated. _“And you're not helping your case, either - hell, you're only making me want even _less_ to play nice with you!”_

_Well, I--_

Cerberus stopped himself, raising a foot to his lower jaw. That was a good point. If Rocard didn't want to be his friend, what made opposing him better? In a meek mental voice, he said, _Okay. I'll try to be a better friend._

The shift in control took less time than before. Rocard shook his head rapidly in an attempt to adjust to the change. “Nngh. Right, we were on the topic of who gave us these badges. Cerberus has a good point, though: this person must've been important enough to be able to verify and accept admissions. Who can do that?”

“Uh…” Lockjaw stammered, also showing difficulty in adjusting to the switch. “Oh, that's easy! Team ACT are the only ones who can moderate admissions.”

“... _Fuck_ ,” Rocard hissed, eyes widening. He laughed. “There's only one guy out of those three who might do something like this. How could I not have figured out sooner?”

The totodile tilted his head. “Who would it be--Ohhhh.”

“The tyranitar, Tony!” Rocard exclaimed, facepalming with the heel of his foot. “Literally the only guy I met from that group, who also gave me a house _for free_. If anybody had the power to accept applications, it would be _him_!”

He then sobered from the excitement of solving that mystery, rolling over to face Lockjaw more. “But I didn't send in any forms. I wouldn't doubt he followed us here, given that these badges weren't on the floor when we first arrived. Not only that, but he knew I was the Ascendant - how else would he have known to put down both Cerberus and I on the form? Granted, he didn't know Cerberus’ nickname, but that suggests he only _just now_ found out.”

Lockjaw sent a surprised look initially, but his expression morphed into that of thoughtfulness. “Dad said that dragon-types have an instinctual knowledge of the Ascendant's sign. The only way for other types to gain this understanding is to share a bond with a dragon-type. But who would Tyranitar be bonded enough towards to learn that?”

Rocard pondered on it for a few moments before his eyes glazed over in mortified realization. “I think we know already.”


	6. Regrouped

Lockjaw groggily sat up, clutching his head. He glanced around, noticing the lantern in the bedroom was burning a soothing orange. Setting his eyes on the small wooden table, he saw only one badge instead of two resting atop it.

He turned his head to the other side, seeing that Rocard wasn't beside him. “Oh. I overslept, didn't I…”

“Hi, Jawsy!”

Lockjaw recoiled in a panic, falling right off the bed. He propped himself back up, glaring at the youngest bagon. “Dang it, Bing! How did you even _get_ in here?”

“Oh, Mama blocked off our doorway when we all went to bed!” Bing said cheerfully, jumping onto the cushion. “Now today's tomorrow, and we can run around 'cause Mama said so! You wanna join me and Walla and Tang and play with us?”

“Not now!” Lockjaw groaned. “I just woke up. Not in the mood for playtime.”

“Awww!” the bagon whined, jumping off the bed. “But that 'Cerba’ guy's joining us, too!”

Lockjaw's eyes widened. _Ohhh shit, Cerberus doesn't know what he's getting himself into! I gotta stop him before he makes a mistake!_

He plastered a smile, nervously laughing through gritted teeth. “Ah-ha ha! Y'know, I just remembered, Cerberus and I need to talk! Alone! In another room! So could you bring him _here_ , please?”

“Okay!” Bing replied, completely oblivious as always. “I'll tell Ting about it!”

The bagon sprinted out the room, not even bothering to close the door on the way out. Even from here, Lockjaw could hear him say, “Hey! Biggest Bro! Lockjaw wants to talk to Cerba!”

“‘Kay, Bing. _Oi_! Walla, Tang! Move your butts, Cerberus needs to talk with our cousin-- _No_ , Tang, you can't ride him like a ponyta! You can do that later!”

Bing waltzed back into the bedroom with a toothy grin. “He's coming right--”

“Yeah, yeah,” the totodile sighed. “I heard the whole thing.”

Cerberus peeked his head around the frame with a sheepish smile. “Hey, Lockjaw! You were asleep, so I went ahead and got up.”

“Anything else, Captain Obvious?” Lockjaw deadpanned, facing the bagon. “Go on, shoo.”

“Okay!” Bing exclaimed, skipping along the floor and leaving the room.

Closing the door, Cerberus opened his mouth before promptly shutting it. He raised a claw. “Just a moment.”

Before Lockjaw could ask about the holdup, the deino lowered his head. Upon meeting eye level again, his sclera was white. “So, apparently the bagon are two sets of twins. Any reason why they're all named after the Witch Doctor's lyrics?”

“Uh, what?” Lockjaw muttered, furrowing his brow. “Who's this Witch Doctor?”

Rocard blinked, unimpressed. “It's a song. The lyrics I'm talking about go something like--”

He then made a goofy expression, complete with prancing in place. “'Ooh, ee, ooh-ah-ah! Ting, tang, walla-walla bing-bang!’” He stopped, then forced a laugh. “ _Gods_ , that was embarrassing to recreate. You get what I mean, don't you?”

“So you're wondering why there isn't a bagon here named Bang?” Lockjaw asked, still confused (and rather embarrassed on Rocard’s behalf). “There just isn't, I guess.”

Rocard leaned forward conspiratorially, whispering, “I bet that whoever was named Bang was forced out of this place. Nobody names their kids with a theme like this but conveniently leaves out a piece 'just because.’”

“What the _hell_ is _wrong_ with you, Rocard?” the totodile said. “Why would Farrah do that to her _own child_?”

“Easy,” Rocard stated, as if it were obvious. “Bang would have to be the father's species. Considering Farrah's love for him is unrequited, she likely didn't want to be reminded of him. And you know who I said was her former mate last night, right?”

Lockjaw scrunched up his snout. “Tyranitar?”

“Ding, ding, ding, we have a _winnah_!” the deino proclaimed. “And I've actually been thinking…”

“A terrible thing to do,” Lockjaw half-joked.

“...Basically, Tony must've regretted leaving his mate,” Rocard concluded. He preemptively held out both front claws in defense. “No, no, hear me out! He's clearly rooting for us, but the team name he gave us - _Redemption_ \- takes on a second purpose, assuming we're right about him and Farrah being mates at one point: he wants to _make up_ for whatever he did to her.”

“I--” Lockjaw stuttered, then tapped a claw under his chin. “That's… actually pretty reasonable. But why is he cheering us on? This is the same tyranitar that approved the restrictions on draconids - why would he support the _Ascendant_ , of all pokémon?”

“The fuck?” Rocard exclaimed. “Actually, I'm pretty sure he would be _against_ a discriminatory law like that in that case. If only three members of a party vote, there's never going to be an even split - so Tony could vote against this, but it passes because the alakazam and charizard vote for it. We can't rule out that possibility just yet.”

Lockjaw nodded uncertainly, hopping off the bed. “Well, I don't think we'll get any confirmation unless we approach Team ACT - and we're _not_ doing that yet.”

The dark draconid rolled his eyes, flipping open his badge. “Ah, whatever. I suppose we can read this message for the time being.”

“ **Initializing UI… Complete. Opening first unread message.** ”

Rocard squinted his eyes, making out the translucent text with some effort. “'Dear Rocard…’ Ugh, how every formal letter starts… 'This is Tyranitar of Team ACT. I hope you are doing well. Currently, a dugtrio has been insisting your assistance in rescuing his son. He does not know you are in an altered state yet, but it might be best to keep it that way; many residents of Pokémon Square have a keen disdain towards dragon-types.’”

“You don't say,” Lockjaw grumbled.

“Oh, hush,” the deino chided, clearing his throat. “'It is in my best interest to meet up with you by the house I gave to you. There, we can discuss with Dugtrio about helping his son. I await your response.’ A mission, then. Alrighty. Probably need to cover these symbols… _again._ ”

Internally, Lockjaw groaned. _Great, I'm gonna have to be in his sight. I'm _so not_ ready for this._

“Let's go speak with Greyson,” Rocard suggested, already making his way to the door. “He could fly us to my… that house, or at least close enough to it.”

Lockjaw raised a brow ridge at the deino's hesitance, but he otherwise didn't question it, following directly behind him.

* * *

Char gazed into his tail flame, focusing as if his life depended on it. He held it close, his claws sweating. Just as he considered giving up, his tail flickered to a distinct blue. _There we go. Now, what else is on your mind?_

He slowly turned to the resting tyranitar next to him, wearing the same determined expression. A swirl of gray laced through a vivid magenta. _You're still regretting what happened. Tch. Hopefully you'll get over her soon… No, keep it cool. Like Lucas said, that's the one thing that breaks--_

Then a small blot of aqua pulsed through the rock-type's head. _What… You're hiding something, are ya’... If only Alakazam were here._

He heard a moan escape Tony's lips, disrupting his aura-searching. Tony sat up, looking at Char with a despondent face. “I'm sorry, Char. Didn't mean to wake you.”

“You're… fine,” the charizard said, glancing away. “Just fine.”

The tyranitar sighed. “You used that aura technique, didn't you.”

“I-Uh, yyyeah,” Char admitted, his cheeks flushing. “I was worried about you. I know how it feels to go through heartbreak.”

“...I'm not ready to let go yet,” Tony whispered, his fists clenching. “Not yet. Bang wasn't there. I don't know if he's even around anymore.”

Char refrained from asking who this Bang was.

“My youngest son,” the tyranitar said, effectively answering the unheard question. “The only larvitar of the bunch. He really…”

His voice cracked, and he sniffled. “He r-really took after his father. Farrah couldn't have--She couldn't have just… _abandoned_ him like that, could she?”

As much as he wished he could refute such an awful thing like that, Char couldn't bring himself to say it. A soft buzzing rang within the small room.

Tony reached for his badge, a small amount of recollection twinkling in his eyes. “Ah, that's right. I found Rocard… on the way to the cave that housed Farrah. I got him to turn in the forms, and I gave him some beginner-rank badges. He just responded to the message I put in there, it looks like.”

Char narrowed his eyes. “You were supposed to talk with us about accepting it first. Why did you just give him the badges?”

The tyranitar sighed, setting down the badge. “You wouldn't believe me.”

“Try me,” Char stated.

Tony took in a deep breath, then exhaled. “Rocard’s the Ascendant.”

Craning his neck towards the rock-type, the charizard scoffed. “Yeah, that _is_ pretty hard to believe. Isn't the Ascendant the reason why Alakazam's keeping all those dragons out of Pokémon Square? You said this Rocard's a cyndaquil, didn't you?”

“I don't know _what_ he is, now,” the tyranitar groaned, covering his face with both claws. “Okay, what I said in my first explanation, while not _wrong_ , was too vague to show the actual circumstances. Since you saw right through that, I suppose I'll tell you in more detail.”

“Which you should've done in the first place,” Char snarked.

Tony rolled his eyes. “When I first met Rocard, I noticed something on his stomach that was faintly glowing. I passed it off as something I imagined from lack of sleep, but you know that's just begging to find out it wasn't just an illusion.

“So, when yesterday rolled around, somebody was flying across the sky and broke the sound barrier - while you were calling me, no less.”

“I remember _that_ clearly,” Char grumbled. “So you followed that, huh?”

Nodding, Tony continued, “Well, I got there, and they had a distinct scent. That helped me get through this cavernous maze. When I peeked around the corner, I saw a deino. It had a bunch of gauze around its legs and body, but a totodile next to it unwrapped the gauze, revealing the same symbol I saw on Rocard - only instead of one, barely visible mark, there were multiple ones that all glowed a bright green. I then overheard the totodile talking about… Farrah.”

Char exhaled, placing a claw on his teammate comfortingly. “You don't have to talk about her if you--”

“But she was one of the reasons _why_ I filled those rescue team forms myself!” Tony exclaimed. “I wanted to make up for that hell of a mission, I wanted to do _something_ for her that might sway her back! But I just… _can't_! She's a stubborn 'mon at heart! What… What else could I do?”

Glancing away, Char felt that tingling once again, but he pinned the feeling between his claws as much as he could. _Not. Yet. Char. You need to be a friend first. Your fantasies can wait._

The fire-type shook his head. “I don't know what else could be done. Maybe… We should do something else to calm our nerves first. That way, we could find our answer better. Also, if Alakazam asks, I helped approve the form.”

“...Alright,” Tony conceded. “How about a jog to Pokémon Square?”

Char nodded, smiling fondly. “That's a lovely idea.”

* * *

“...So you're basically telling me you're a rescue team now, and you need to get to Pokémon Square to find your first client.”

Rocard nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Greyson sighed, stretching his wings. “Well, consider yourselves lucky. Draconids are allowed there only if they're confirmed to be part of a team - which showing your badge would do the trick. A stolen badge would constantly flicker red if you somehow don't get caught in the act, which obviously isn't the case with either of yours.”

Hopping atop the dragonite's back, Lockjaw said, “Shall we get going, Dad?”

“Impatient, much?” Rocard joked, climbing up to the base of the larger dragon-type's wings. “The house we're looking for is a fire-type home. It's got a dome shape.”

“And it's the only one in town,” Lockjaw added. “All the way at the end of Aquatic Arch, for whatever reason.”

Greyson nodded, preparing to takeoff…

“Wait, Greyson!” Farrah called, rushing from the exit and crashing into him. “You forgot your goodbye hug!”

“Sis…” the dragonite moaned, face flushing while both Rocard and Lockjaw held on for dear life. “Quit it!”

The salamence backed away, sufficiently amused. “Alright, alright, I'll spare you the whole thing.”

While Lockjaw's expression shifted to that of terror - likely due to some realization or memory - Rocard snickered.

“ _Thank_ you,” Greyson said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I'll be sure to visit more often. Maybe Daisy would like to come next time.”

“That would be lovely.”

The dragonite waved farewell to his sister before leaping into the air.

To Rocard's pleasant surprise, Greyson flew at a much slower pace than the previous trip. The deino looked around the beautiful clouds in awe.

Lockjaw gazed at the ground, pointing out some landmarks he recognized and mentioning them to the dark-type.

“Honestly, this is better than flying in a plane,” Rocard stated, making sure he could be heard over the wind.

“What's a plane?” the totodile asked.

“It's basically…” Rocard began, putting a free claw under his jaw. “It's a big machine that's about three houses in length, built by humans to make travelling easier. Some are larger than others, some have more seats than others… On the rare occasion that it's needed, some have weapons attached. Usually as a last resort offense.”

Lockjaw's mouth formed an “o” shape. “I almost forgot you were a human. Why don't other humans just recruit pokémon to fly them around?”

“There are plenty that do that,” the deino said. “But most pokémon can only take one or two people to places they know, while planes can take hundreds of people and cargo at once to just about anywhere in the world. Not everyone has a flying pokémon by their side, either.”

“Huh. That kinda makes sense, I guess. What kind of weapons are… used?”

Rocard frowned. Noticing they had started descending, he decided to switch the topic. “Pokémon Square's pretty big, huh?”

“It’s the largest town,” Greyson noted, a hint of disdain creeping into his voice. “And it’s the _only_ place that could be called a town in this region.”

“Oh,” the dark-type said. “What about the rest of the region?”

“Most pokémon stay in large groups,” Greyson explained with a twirl of his claw. “Many share living quarters with other species. Hell, some of them don’t even have proper roofs! All the money in this place is being funneled to this one town - if you don’t own a business, or if you aren’t in a rescue team, you won’t be able to afford much here.”

Watching as they got closer to the ground, Rocard shook his head. “And that’s why everyone and their mother has to do shady shit here. I still remember when Lockjaw threatened to claw my face off or whatever.”

“Well, ex _cuse_ me for not knowing you were the Ascendant,” Lockjaw grumbled.

Rocard sent an unimpressed glare to the totodile, then looked back to the ground and muttered, “Can’t go five minutes without that being mentioned…”

“What?”

“Nothing,” the former human responded. “Just trying to figure out how long it’ll take to land.”

* * *

Tony’s pace had considerably slowed compared to before, much to Char’s frustration; despite understanding his teammate’s struggle, the charizard just couldn’t keep himself from being a little impatient.

 

Adjusting his pack, the fire-type looked at his partner. “What do you plan to do in the Square, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, just some errands,” the tyranitar stated. “I'll need to see that dugtrio. Again.”

Char sighed. “I'll do your errands if you talk to him without me. I think I've seen enough of him for a lifetime.”

Tony chuckled, handing his partner a list. “Make sure Kecleon has these items in stock, _especially_ the ones closest to the top; don't let his brother slack off on those TMs, either.”

“Alright,” Char said, reading over the list. “X-ray specs? Those tend to be hard to find. I'll check anyways, but don't be surprised if there aren't any.”

They waved each other goodbye and split up in their path. Tony headed toward Whiscash's pond, then deviated to the old fire-type house.

Fortunately, he seemingly arrived just in time to spot a dragonite landing in front of the house with an all too familiar deino and totodile. _Un_ fortunately, they saw him, too. The dragonite braced himself, only to be blockaded by the two smaller pokémon.

“Dude, we've got this!” Rocard argued. “He was the one I figured formed our team!”

“Really, now,” the dragonite hissed, facing Tony once more. “What makes you think that?”

Lockjaw faltered. “Well, uh…”

“Remember how I told you Tony gave me this house for free and pointed out the admission forms?” the deino asked, still tensed up. “Only Team ACT can accept admissions! Out of those three, only Tony had _any_ connection with me!”

“How did you figure it was me so quickly?”

“Easy! I--Wait, what?” Rocard stuttered, craning his head toward the rock-type. “Well, I just pointed out how I figured it out. Lockjaw told me how your group's the only one that can approve the formation of a team.”

Tony glanced away sheepishly. “I, uh, had to bend some rules to make it work. No need to thank me for that.”

“But I _should_!” Rocard countered. “You went out of your way to make a form for us, even though I hadn't made one! Have some confidence in yourself - you're a big friendly giant if _I’ve_ ever seen one!”

The tyranitar blushed heavily, covering his face.

“...How did you even _do_ that?!” Lockjaw breathed, wide-eyed. “You certainly have a way with words!”

Greyson cleared his throat, relaxing. “I suppose I haven't learned everything about you, Tyranitar. Hopefully, I won't make a mistake in leaving you with these two.”

“...Right,” Tony said carefully, hearing the faint rumble of shifting dirt. He turned to the deino and totodile. “I believe your client’s already making his way here.”

Giving one last pat onto the smaller pokémon, the dragonite took into the air and flew off. Dugtrio popped out of the ground not moments later, surprising Lockjaw enough to jump a little.

“I thought you said you found Rocard,” the ground-type accusingly stated to the tyranitar. “I sure don’t see a cyndaquil.”

“That’s because--” Tony began, hesitating with his wording and trying to think of an excuse. “--Rocard is still recovering from a stab wound. These two are both part of his team.”

Rocard looked at the rock-type in approval, then turned towards Dugtrio apologetically. “Yeah… It’s pretty bad. I hope we can be a good enough substitute for the time being.”

Dugtrio scoffed. “Alright, alright, fine. Don’t you _dare_ think of hurting my child, though.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the deino proclaimed smoothly. “Now who’s this kidnapper?”

“A skarmory,” Dugtrio informed, scowling. “She’s the reason why I was looking for Rocard - my ground-type moves won’t do a thing, and I don’t trust any of the shockers around here for a second.”

Tony noticed Rocard’s mouth frowning in apparent sympathy. The tyranitar added, “Dugtrio here witnessed her taking his son atop Mount Steel. If we’re all prepared, I’ll lead you to the warp commune.”

“I’ll go on ahead,” Dugtrio called, already digging away. “I don’t have access to those things, so I’m gonna need to take the old-fashioned route. Be quick!”

Letting out a loud sigh of relief, Rocard sat on his haunches. “Certainly a handful. Or clawful--Whatever! I just hope we can make this mission quick.”

He then stood back up, facing Lockjaw. “What sort of stuff should we bring? I think we only just barely scraped by at Thunderwave Caverns.”

Tony hummed, feeling a bit disappointed from that remark. “Mount Steel is about twice as tall as Thunderwave Caverns. What sort of items did you use to help you out?”

“None!” Rocard said, a hint of cynicism bringing a smile to his face. “I’d rather not rely on items to win a fight if I have to - because I don’t wanna be _that guy_ and spam endless full restores and revives; it’s fucking _cheap_ , is what it is.”

Both Tony and Lockjaw gawked at him.

The deino raised a brow ridge. “...What?”

“You’re _insane_ , that’s what!” Lockjaw exclaimed, throwing up his arms. “Did you not feel like you were getting hungrier faster in Thunderwave Caverns? Those apples were _fresh_ , and yet you didn’t pick them up!”

“There are mystery dungeons that go for as much as thirty floors,” Tony noted, frowning. “And we’re _still_ discovering more to this day that go even deeper. You wouldn’t last in one without having to eat at the very least.”

Rocard faltered. “Buh… Well, I… What do _you_ propose we do, then?”

Tony gestured a claw, making his way down the street. “C’mon. You’ll need a bag first.”

While the deino eagerly followed the larger pokémon, Lockjaw hesitated, checking himself. “Dammit, I forgot mine!”

* * *

Rocard looked around the various buildings of the wide street. Given how many pokémon traversed through this path and stopped by each building, he was certain this would be the main street. _Seems a bit self-indulgent for the buildings to be shaped in what I presume to be the owners’ heads, though._

 _“What's wrong with that?”_ Cerberus inquired. _“It's easy to know who you need to go to from a distance, right?”_

 _Fair enough,_ Rocard noted, seeing Tony stop in front of a kecleon-shaped building. He also couldn't help but feel a bit claustrophobic, considering the many eyes that laid upon both him and the tyranitar.

Tony waved for the kecleon behind the counter. “Hey, Leo! We got a new team - you know what to do, right?”

“Why of _course_ , sir!” Leo affirmed cheerily. “That'll be fifty poké each… Ah, kidding! I'm sure you and your team spends enough here, ha ha!”

“Tell me about it,” the rock-type said, rolling his eyes with a grin. “So has Char stopped by today?”

Leo held up a digit, then turned toward the back of the shop and lifted the curtains slightly. “Ken! Get some rookie bags, wouldja’?”

The sound of cluttering metal rang through the curtains. Leo sighed, pinching between his nostrils. “ _Ken_! I _hope_ that wasn't the newest shipment back there!”

He then faced Tony with a nervous smile. “I'll be just a moment.”

Once the kecleon pushed through the curtains, Tony leaned on the counter and looked at Rocard and Lockjaw. “While we're waiting, I guess I'll tell you about the other facilities.”

“Sure thing,” Rocard said. “This is the general store by the looks of it, huh.”

“Yup!” the tyranitar stated, then pointed toward a building with brown motifs. “That over there's Kangaskhan's storage. Family chain, keeps valuable items for you without much risk of losing them in mystery dungeons. She's practically everyone's mother around here, nice lady.”

Rocard nodded, smiling. “Exactly what I think a kangaskhan would do. And the one shaped like a persian over there's a bank, I assume?”

“Sharp, ain’t ya?” Tony quipped. He pointed to the opposite ‘corner’ of the intersecting street, showing the figure of a gulpin. “How about that one?”

“Hm… TMs?”

The rock-type barked out a laugh. “Not quite! I wouldn’t expect many outsiders to know, given how rare those kinds of facilities are nowadays. That’s a link shop, where you can chain moves together to use in rapid succession. Gulpin also has a smaller, yet still notable service of his that allows you to remember forgotten moves.”

“Slick,” Rocard commented. “Like a move reminder on steroids. Might have to check him out some time.”

“Well, it’s not without its downsides,” Tony noted. “Once a move that’s linked runs out of power, the link breaks; moves like fire blast and blizzard aren’t good choices for move linking as a result. You also get hungrier faster compared to using a single move.”

Rocard shrugged, then noticed Leo returning and faced him. “Ooh, yikes. A single pouch?”

“You’ll be able to fit…” the kecleon began, tapping his chin. “About sixteen items, I believe. As you rank up, you’ll get larger bags! I’ve also added in a few particularly helpful items, since I’m feeling particularly generous today! Go get ‘em, you two!”

Taking the bag, Rocard felt the urge to peek inside immediately. Instead, he gave a polite nod to the kecleon. “Thank you, sir.”

Lockjaw tapped the deino’s shoulder, then pulled him back into the street and started following Tony. “Let's _not_ stick around those kecleon longer than we have to, capiche?” the water-type hissed.

“Hostile, much?” Rocard remarked, speeding up so he no longer got dragged by the totodile. “So what's his mojo, huh?”

“Don't expect him or his brother to be useful outside the market,” Lockjaw explained. “They don't care who you are or what you've done, they will _always_ try to sell you something.”

“Uh… huh,” the draconid said. “And that's a bad thing because…”

“Now imagine stealing from them.”

Rocard's mind brought up many ways that could go wrong. He shuddered. “Ooookay, noted! Let's just keep following Tony!”

They ran to catch up to the surprisingly agile tyranitar without a second glance back.


	7. Justified

Tony tapped at the base of the device in front of him, activating the orb atop its pedestal. The orb glowed brightly, and a slot opened near the bottom.

“ **Please insert the team leader's badge,** ” the speaker buzzed.

“That's your cue,” Tony stated, looking over at Rocard and Lockjaw. “I’m sure you two can take it from here. Any last questions?”

“Actually, now that I think about it, yes,” Rocard said, then stepped forward cautiously. “Do you… have a larvitar son named Bang?”

The tyranitar halted. He blinked rapidly, sweating. “Y-Yes. How did you…”

“Pattern recognition,” the draconid quipped. “Those four bagon were centered around a theme - one that was missing a fifth part. Considering… _other_ factors, it wasn't that hard to put the pieces together.”

Opening his mouth to refute what could put him in a bad light, Tony only stuttered.

Rocard, surprisingly, sent a reassuring smile. “Whatever it was that you did or didn't do, you clearly regret it, _and_ you want to make up for it. Mad props to you; if I had a hat, I would be tipping it for you. If you don't get it to work out, there are still plenty of options.”

Lockjaw exhaled through his nose. “I still don't like the way your team discriminates against draconids. This whole stigma that's been placed is completely undeserved, but… as a 'mon, you're a nice guy. I don't think your actions were deserving of what Aunt Farrah did.”

Tony sniffled, attempting to keep his welling tears from surfacing. “I… Thank you. Go ahead and do your mission.”

He shuffled away, making sure he was a certain distance from the two before letting the tears fall. Truly, it was unprofessional for him to get this emotional, a point only emphasized when he saw Char making his way down the path.

The charizard noticed the mess of a tyranitar his partner was, and he promptly approached the rock-type with a stern, yet concerned look. “What happened? You aren't injured, so why are you crying this much?”

“Char…” Tony mumbled, a glint of a smile on his face. “Team Redemption _know_ about my youngest son.”

“What?!” Char hissed, turning towards the now-empty warp stall. “What else do they know? If they so much as talk down on you--”

“They _understood_ my pain,” the tyranitar pleaded. “Even _Lockjaw_ wished for my well-being! I-I didn't think anyone aside from you would care…”

He spotted a mighty blush forming around the fire-type's cheeks, and he let out a joyful sob. “Thank you, Char…”

Then, Tony embraced the charizard.

“I-Uh--” Char choked out, before calming himself and returning the hug. “No problem, Tony.”

* * *

Rocard steadied himself, disoriented by the sudden change in environment. He glanced up at the mountain entrance, noting the occasional flipped minecart or broken tracks. A sign written in bold footprint runes stood in front of him, with the text underneath it being in unown script. “‘Mount Steel Mines.’ Fitting.”

“Did you read the runes or the unown script?” Lockjaw asked, leaning on the sign.

“The latter,” came the dragon-type’s reply. “I’ve heard of footprint runes, but they’re _far_ from the most common form of writing in my world. Unown script is usually taught as a secondary language at least, considering it’s so universal… except it’s a rarity here, by the looks of it.”

Lockjaw shrugged and checked his claws for any dirt. “So I’ll need to ask you for a translation if it’s just unown script.”

“I could say the same for footprint runes,” Rocard remarked, a playful smirk forming on his face. “At least unown script is _easy_ to learn, if a bit tedious.”

The totodile narrowed his eyes in confusion, but the shifting of dirt kept him from coming up with a retort. “Oh, boy…”

Dugtrio popped out of the ground a little bit too close to the both of them. “Good, you made it before I did. That certainly cuts down on my waiting time, heh!”

“Got any info on where your son is?” Rocard inquired, flicking a bit of dirt off of his scales.

“He’s up at the ninth floor, all the way at the top,” Dugtrio stated. “I’m counting on you!”

“Yeah, but--”

Before Rocard could ask anything more, the ground-type dug right back into the ground and burrowed away. “Damn, was hoping to know if his other heads function individually.”

“Why would you ask something like that?” Lockjaw interrogated, raising a brow ridge. “I’m pretty sure that’s not the case, since he referred himself as one ‘mon just then.”

“Well…” Rocard started, looking away. “...Most humans can’t understand pokémon. Some researchers believe the heads of a dugtrio function as three, while others believe they’re one entity. My guess is that both instances can occur with different dugtrio.”

“Hey, I have an idea,” the water-type suggested. “How about we talk about this _after_ we’ve rescued this diglett?”

Rolling his eyes, the deino stepped into the mine.

Immediately, a zigzagoon jumped at them, successfully clawing at an unprepared Rocard’s torso. Rocard hissed, tossing his body against the normal-type. “What a cheap shot!”

Lockjaw spouted some water at the zigzagoon, which seemed to be enough to knock it unconscious. “Certainly a way to start the dungeon…”

 _Well, shit,_ Rocard mused in defeat. _Yo, Cerberus. I feel like you might battle better than I could with this body. Mind lending a hand--er, claw?_

_“...Oh! Right, sorry. I’ll get right on it!”_

Cerberus stumbled a little while gaining control, indicating the shift to Lockjaw as well. The deino looked up at his teammate with a slight flush in his cheeks.

“So, any reason for the switch?” Lockjaw asked, making his way around one of the corners.

“Rocard told me he thinks I would battle better in this body,” Cerberus responded before focusing on his mind. _At least I _hope_ you said that._

_“Were you not listening? _Yes_ , I did say that. Just because I don’t _like_ you doesn’t mean I can’t at least _respect_ your potential abilities.”_

Cerberus sighed. It was a start, at the very least. He followed Lockjaw down the corridors, taking in the rather unique formation of stalactites. A couple of sleeping zubat hung between the spikes - none of which seeming like they would wake up easily.

His sightseeing would have to wait, however, as evidenced by another wild pokémon occupying Lockjaw’s front. An aron charged at the totodile, subsequently getting doused not too long after the tackle missed. Lockjaw faced Cerberus with a deadpan expression, holding a claw out and keeping the steel-type out of reach with ease. “How about _you_ deal the last hit?”

The deino arched a brow ridge. “Um… okay?”

He inhaled instinctively, though he couldn’t determine why. At this point, his cheeks were puffed, and his lungs felt dry. What now?

Then, his lungs no longer felt dry - rather, they _burned_. _Ack! Hot, hot, ow, ow!_

 _“Breathe out, idiot!”_ Rocard demanded, and Cerberus blew out the air - now a magenta flame - and knocked the aron out cold.

Cerberus coughed, tongue sticking out. “Ow… Uhh, how did I do?”

Lockjaw pinched the bridge of his nose. “You… somehow did _worse_ than Daisy’s first attempt at a dragon rage. I’m not sure if I should be impressed or I should determine you to as _absolutely hopeless_.”

“Oh,” the deino said simply. “How _should_ it work, then?”

“Well, you--”

A tremor shook, tripping up the totodile. He looked out into the room, then back to Cerberus. “...I think teaching you not to suck will have to wait.”

The two of them rushed on ahead, taking the first flight of stairs.

* * *

Surprisingly, the next couple of floors weren't so bad. A spearow would attempt to peck at Lockjaw, but one swift ice punch took it down. Cerberus could tell Rocard wanted to know why the totodile hadn't used it up to this point, but they agreed to ask after the mission.

Once they reached the next staircase, Lockjaw stopped the deino with an arm. “Okay, we seem to have made good progress. I think we have enough space to practice that dragon rage.”

 _“Now? When we're doing a rescue?”_ Rocard retorted. _“Tell him that could be done later!”_

“Shouldn't we rescue the diglett, first?” Cerberus suggested, eyeing the stairs.

“Well, _yeah_ ,” the water-type admitted, sheepishly rubbing his arms. “But if we need to fight off the skarmory that kidnapped him, I'd rather think you can actually use a _move_ properly.”

Cerberus felt his control loosen, and Rocard barged in just to say, “Then let's talk while we walk! That diglett isn't getting any _fucking safer_!”

Lockjaw glared at the deino, whose eyes flickered back to green and black. “O _kay_ , Rocard, geez! C'mon.”

He climbed up the stairs, looking at the steps in thought. Cerberus followed not too long afterwards, noticing the change in environment; instead of the browns that dominated the lower floors, the walls were a light gray, with some faded green adorning the cracks in the stone.

 _“Limestone,”_ Rocard mentally noted, a bit of mirth sprinkled into his voice. _“What a coincidence.”_

Cerberus arched a brow ridge. _What kind of coincidence?_

_“Oh, nothing. Just a little inside joke for me. You wouldn’t get it.”_

The deino shook his head, deciding not to press the topic any further. He faced Lockjaw, asking, “So what were you gonna help me practice?”

“Well,” the totodile began, “I’m not sure if what I’ll tell you is worth looking into. I only learned about how dragon rage works by listening to Dad teaching my sister, since I can’t use it myself… Um, where do I begin?”

“How about the color?” Cerberus suggested. “It was almost pink, and you said that I did it wrong. Maybe something about it being pinkish is part of the reason?”

Lockjaw shrugged. “Pretty sure it’s supposed to be more purple. It turned pink because you held it in too long.”

“Okay?” the draconid said, unsure if he really understood. “So I just let it out sooner, right?”

“Yeah, but--”

Due to the two of them being so distracted with conversing, a beldum managed to sneak up on Cerberus and slam into him with a powerful take down attack. The dark-type yelped, tipping forward and nearly falling over, before he turned around with a glare.

Lockjaw winced. “At least you can practice dragon rage on that beldum?”

Cerberus huffed, then took in a deep breath. He felt the heat rising, drying his lungs. Then, just as they started to burn, he exhaled, launching violet flames onto the beldum. The steel-type drooped, hardly able to continue floating.

Scratching at the enemy, Lockjaw finished it off. “That, uh, certainly went better than I thought it would. How'd you get it only on the second try?”

“Er…” the deino started, looking away and feeling strangely energized. “I guess I just wasn't prepared the first time. Felt like I kinda knew how, but once you told me it was all about timing, I got it… And, um, why do I feel energetic all of a sudden?”

Lockjaw opened his mouth to answer, but both of their badges blipped simultaneously. “Huh? Let's see here… Oh. 'You levelled up’. Great.”

“'Current level: seven’?” Cerberus asked, quoting his badge and soon realizing what it meant. “Ah, okay. What's _your_ level, anyway?”

Lockjaw glared at the draconid, clicking on his badge and grumbling, “C'mon, turn off level-up notifications…”

The dark-type tilted his head. “...I said, 'What's your--’”

“I _heard you_!” Lockjaw snarled, stuffing the device back into his scarf. “I'm just not _answering_ you. Let's _go_.”

Cerberus meekly followed the totodile, not saying another word to him. He could hear Rocard sighing.

* * *

It was only when they reached the peak that Lockjaw’s frown lessened. Although tempted, Cerberus refrained from speaking up, focusing on the surroundings ahead; the stone had darkened to the color of slate, matching the jagged walls. Now, there was no more ceiling, showcasing the midday sun in its full glory. The floor also consisted of multiple platforms, separated by wide gaps that extended far enough for the bottom to disappear.

A large steel-type circled around a platform that stood higher than their own, and it appeared she had already seen them. Skarmory flew down to them, wearing a scowl that put even Lockjaw’s to shame. “ _What might you two_ be doing _here_? Are you _here to rescue_ the _diglett_?”

 _“Ho boy,”_ Rocard muttered. _“Hey, mind if I take control for a bit, at least until we… more than likely inevitably fight?”_

 _...Sure,_ Cerberus sighed, turning his control onto the former human.

Rocard nodded in response to Skarmory’s question. “Yes, ma’am. It would be easier if you hand him over without a fight.”

“Oh, _joy_ ,” she seethed. “And _let him keep_ destroying our _planet_? What’s _in it for_ you to _take him back to the ground_?”

“You think one little diglett could cause all these massive earthquakes?” Rocard countered, keeping his gaze steady despite the brief flicker of purple around her. “And in rapid succession? Whatever’s causing this--”

“I _see you’re_ not _convinced_ ,” Skarmory quipped, spreading her wings. “ _You two_ will perish _like the rest of them_!”

 _Yup, should’ve expected that,_ Rocard mentally noted. _You’re up, Cerberus._

Cerberus went into a battle stance alongside Lockjaw, watching Skarmory leap into the air.

The totodile squirted some water, but the force wasn't enough to reach the flying-type. “Damn! C'mere, you ugly bird!”

Skarmory dove towards the water-type, completely ignoring Cerberus, who had started charging a dragon rage. She slapped Lockjaw with a wing attack, then felt a searing pain in her other wing. Turning to her assailant, the steel-type huffed and charged at him with her beak.

Cerberus clashed his head with hers, but the type disadvantage knocked him back. He gritted his teeth, starting up another dragon rage.

Lockjaw spouted a water gun at Skarmory, keeping her distracted just long enough for the deino to hit her with the heated breath. The totodile ran up to her while she reeled, slamming into her with an ice punch.

“E _nough_!” Skarmory squawked, digging her talons into the ground. “You _two are enough_ of a hassle! _Get off_ me!”

She spread her aching wings out, forcing Lockjaw to the ground. The skarmory flapped into the air, tipping to one side. The wing that got burnt by the dragon rage soon failed her, sending her barrelling back to the ground.

Cerberus rushed over to the steel-type, giving control to Rocard so that he could keep her neck down with a claw.

“See, this is why you should've done this peacefully,” Rocard gloated, a smirk forming. “Chances are you'll get hurt trying to defend your _skewed_ reality.”

“B-But--” Skarmory choked out, prompting Rocard to squeeze a bit tighter.

“But what?!” Rocard suddenly screamed. “What's so terrible about a lone diglett - a _child_ , no less! - that you would kidnap him to off him?! What makes you think--”

“R-Rocard, please--”

Rocard growled at Lockjaw. “I am giving her what she _deserves_!”

The totodile shrank back.

“ _Good_. Now, what do you have to _say_ for yourself--”

He looked into Skarmory's eyes. She twitched, letting out a gurgling sound. Rocard glared into her for a good few seconds before realizing just what he was doing.

He let go and

_he found himself in his room. He looked at all the Team Hurricane propaganda on his shelf, something he couldn't bring himself to get rid of._

_Because they were watching._

_He _knew_ they were. The moment he tore down a poster would be the moment a group of “bodyguards” would drag him to Cole's office._

_He couldn't bear to get himself starved again. Not after all that he'd accomplished._

_The doorknob turned, and he_

was back on Mount Steel, choking a skarmory to death.

Rocard backed off, almost relieved to hear her gasping. _I won't be him. I _can't_ afford to be like him._

Lockjaw stared at the deino, brow furrowed. “You… What were you--”

“No, I don't _want_ to be like _him_!” Rocard spluttered, hyperventilating. “I can't… I won't…”

Clutching him by the shoulders, Lockjaw peered into his eyes. “Snap out of it! You aren't 'him’!”

And yet Rocard's eyes wouldn't meet his. Instead, they saw through him.

Lockjaw faltered. He weakened his grasp on the draconid’s shoulders, gesturing to the semi-conscious steel-type. “She’s _alive_ , if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Gghk…” Skarmory coughed, sitting up and looking around. “...Wh-Where am I?”

“Y-You don’t know where you _are_?” Lockjaw asked, flabbergasted. He looked into Skarmory’s eyes, finding no recollection. “...You don’t. I dunno what you think you’ve been doing, but you kidnapped a diglett and brought him here - Mount Steel.”

“...Mount Steel?” she repeated, gasping. “Oh sweet Mew! I thought I was going to Mount Freeze to visit some nice lady! Lemme tell you, I have the _worst_ sense of direction!”

Lockjaw tripped. “Well, we experienced something more than that… Can you fly up, see if there’s a little diglett around here?”

“Oh, sure,” Skarmory obliged, but her wings ached. “Ow… My wings are sore right now, though. I’ll just hop around instead.”

The steel-type jumped onto a higher ledge, looking around.

Lockjaw looked on, still dumbfounded by the change in Skarmory’s temperament. He faced Rocard, muttering, “Are you okay now?”

Rocard’s eyes flickered, indicating Cerberus was now the one he was talking to. “He’s, uh, still very panicked. I-I saw what he saw, too…”

“What _did_ he see?” the totodile inquired.

Cerberus shuddered. “He says the less people that know what he knows, the better. _I_ don’t even know all about what he saw, and I’m just… The sheer terror he felt spread into _my_ feelings as well… Where’s Skarmory?”

“I found him!” came the reply, now a distant echo. “Whoa--He’s a rowdy one!”

Lockjaw furrowed his brow. “She… Something happened with her, and now she doesn’t remember anything about the kidnapping or fighting. Diglett’s probably more confused than I am right now. Someone’s gotta tell him it’s alright, but…”

Cerberus nodded, standing a bit taller. “Hey! Diglett! We’re here to come and rescue you!”

“But why’s the skarmory here?!” a young, shaky voice called. “She’s the big meanie that stuck me here--Wah! Let go!”

Skarmory hopped back to the main platform, Diglett clinging to her back… somehow. The steel-flying-type settled him down, giving a worried glance to the rescuers. “I d-don’t know how long I was out for… Days? Weeks? If I ended up kidnapping this little guy while I was out… what _else_ could I have done in that time? I’d _gladly_ turn myself in if it means I don’t do something like this - or worse - again!”

“Uhhh…” Lockjaw croaked, looking between Cerberus and Diglett. “Let’s just get out of here first. I think we’ll get more done at Pokémon Square than this place.”

“ **Return to Pokémon Square?** ” Cerberus’s badge buzzed, catching him by surprise.

“Ah--Uh--Yes!” the deino stuttered.

The badge glowed a bright blue. “ **Teleporting…** ”

Soon, all four pokémon were engulfed in the light.

* * *

Lockjaw recognized the house that appeared in front of them as Rocard’s. The totodile shook his head in an attempt to ease the vertigo of teleportation, noticing Diglett and Skarmory next to him. He reflexively jumped back, then realized that the skarmory had seemingly been “brought back to her senses” from the fight.

Nonetheless, he hesitantly waved at the steel-type. “So, yeah… You might not want to show your beak around--”

“My son!”

Dugtrio popped out of the ground beside Diglett, much to Lockjaw’s dismay. “My son, you’re okay! Papa’s here, boy…”

All it took was one glance towards Skarmory for the older ground-type to make a whole one-eighty in attitude. “ _You_. What are _you_ doing here?”

“We’re bringing her to the post office!” Lockjaw sputtered, then took a moment to calm himself. “We’ll take her to Officer Swellow. She seems to be willing to turn herself in, so don’t worry about her.”

Dugtrio narrowed his eyes, each head facing Skarmory, Lockjaw, and Cerberus. He kept staring for what felt like an eternity before relaxing. “...Okay. Here’s your reward. _Hopefully_ you follow through with that.”

Two seeds and a bundle of coins popped up out of the ground in front of Cerberus. Facing Diglett, the larger ground-type said, “Let’s go home. I bet your feet were cold up there, weren’t they?”

As they burrowed away, Lockjaw furrowed his brow in confusion. _Feet? I certainly didn’t see any feet on him when Skarmory carried him._

Both Cerberus and Skarmory looked just as bewildered as him.

After a moment of silence, Cerberus shifted his gaze toward the town. “I guess we’ll go and take Skarmory to that Officer Swellow you mentioned?”

“Yeah,” Lockjaw affirmed, picking up the rewards and stuffing them in the deino’s bag. He gave one last look at Skarmory. “Well… C’mon.”

The steel-type walked slowly behind them, wearing a forlorn expression. Even with Lockjaw checking her every so often, she didn’t deviate from them.


	8. Cured(?)

“...And this skarmory didn't recall any of this before you knocked her out.”

Lockjaw sighed, nodding. “That's what we think happened, at least. Unless she's a criminal _mastermind_ and is capable of fooling just about anyone, she wouldn't willingly help retrieve the pokémon she kidnapped _and_ offer to turn herself in.”

“Uh-huh,” Swellow muttered, then turned to a taillow behind him. “Ah, Terry. Status report.”

“Cosmo scanned her brain, sir,” Terry informed. “Her memories were nothing but a clean slate for roughly six weeks. She also has little memory in general - Cosmo estimated that she only has eighteen months’ worth of memory. While Cosmo tried to help her remember, however, he came into a problem: a dark violet aura blocked him from changing anything.”

Swellow lowered his head in thought. “Dark aura, huh…”

“What?” Lockjaw inquired.

“Oh, nothing,” the larger flying-type said, waving a wing dismissively. “I'm just remembering something a few years back. Terry, dismissed.”

“Yes, sir!” Terry acknowledged, flapping away with her tiny wings.

Lockjaw narrowed his eyes, not completely convinced by the swellow’s excuse. Rather than ask about the dark aura, he simply headed towards the door, telling the flying-type, “I’ll go ahead and check up on Rocard.”

“Feel free,” Swellow ushered. “Just make sure not to barge in like last time.”

Rolling his eyes, the totodile left, heading to the infirmary. He watched a couple of pokémon cross the hallways here and there - most of which being togepi or togetic - as he approached one of the rooms. A wingull stood at the door to Rocard’s room, looking half-asleep already.

“Hey,” Lockjaw greeted, tapping one of the guard’s wings. “You sure you shouldn’t be in bed, Winston?”

Winston snorted, blearily opening his eyes. “‘S fine. Understaffed again. J’st be sure to knock.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the totodile grumbled, using his claws to click against the door. “Hey, Rocard. I’m coming in.”

Without waiting for a response, Lockjaw turned the knob and entered. The window provided minimal light with the curtains closed, making the litwick-styled candle the main source of light. Rocard laid down on the only cushioned bed, one eye open.

“Why’d you make _me_ see a doctor, too?” the deino whispered. “It’s not like they can really do anything to help.”

Lockjaw exhaled. “You _know_ why. Whatever it was that caused you to freak out like that isn’t just some everyday sickness.”

Rocard laughed bitterly. “It’s _stupid_ , that’s what. I don’t think _anyone_ could cure this… this sort of problem.”

“Well, I can’t help if I don’t know what’s up,” Lockjaw stated. “So what’s _wrong_?”

“...I can’t,” Rocard muttered, turning away. “It would be too much a burden to tell you all at once.”

“Then tell me _part_ of it!” the water-type exclaimed. “Tell me what’s _first_ on your… to-do list or something.”

Rocard gazed on with a half-lidded expression.

“... _Well_?” Lockjaw insisted, then sighed and turned around. “Fine then, be like that! Why, just push away everyone that's trying to help you, right?”

“You don't know that.”

In an instant, Lockjaw was facing the deino once more, breath hitching for only a brief moment. “ _What_?! What do you mean--”

“I've been surrounded by people promising to 'help’ me,” Rocard explained, voice cracking. “Not a _single one_ kept their word. What makes you think that's going to change?”

Lockjaw faltered. “I… If that's what you're so worried about… Dad gave you a decent shelter when you changed forms. If what I heard was correct, Tyranitar simply _gifted_ you a house of your own, too! And he started our rescue team!”

“Your dad didn't know I even _existed_ until you brought me there,” the deino countered. “And you only brought me there when I did… _that_. You clearly expressed your disdain for me - right up until we learned what these symbols mean here!”

“It's one thing to not like someone based on first impressions,” Lockjaw stated, “but it's another to watch a 'mon bleed out because of that impression alone! I try to save you to make up for how I acted, and yet you think that's a _bad_ thing?”

Rocard scoffed, sniffling and looking away. “Why would you want to save someone like me?”

The totodile reached out tentatively, laying a claw on the draconid's shoulder. “Because you rescued a caterpie and a pair of magnemite. Because you helped someone who's going through a rough patch. Because you brought a skarmory back to her senses and rescued a diglett on top of that!”

Lockjaw exhaled. “Because you care about others. If that doesn't make you a good pokémon - or human - I don't know what does.”

In what little amount of light was shown in the room, the sparkle of tears dripped down Rocard's neck. “I'm _broken_.”

“You're hurting,” Lockjaw whispered, “but you’ll _recover_.”

Lowering his head, the draconid let out one more sob, rattling his body in the process. He looked up at Lockjaw with a faint smile, eyes now black. “Rocard appreciates it. He really does… So he wants me to take the helm for a little while.”

“That's… fine,” the totodile said, unwrapping his arms and staring at them with a hint of amusement. “Heh… Didn't realize I was hugging you. How about we go and talk to Officer Swellow?”

Cerberus nodded.

* * *

Skarmory winced at the psychic projection in front of her. “Um, okay, that looks like me. Right, Mister Cosmo?”

“Indeed,” Cosmo replied, pointing at a purple segment around where her torso would’ve been. “ _That_ is what seems to have caused your… lapse in sanity. We don't have a uniform name for this phenomenon, but there have been outbreaks of this in the past. I tend to call it the Darkness Bug. Some were more affected than others--”

The starmie leaned in closer, his red gem eye dimming. “--including - don't tell anyone - our very own head officer, Swellow.”

“But he looked fine, right?” Skarmory uttered, feeling appalled.

Cosmo returned to his position next to the psychic image, nodding. “Generally, it's nigh-impossible to simply see this kind of aura - only psychics and those who were trained to read auras can do that. The thing about… _you know who_ is that he's one of the few pokémon who managed to recover from this.”

Skarmory gazed at the starmie in awe. “What's the cure for this, then?”

“Patience!”

She did a double-take. “...What?”

“Ah-ha, only kidding!” Cosmo laughed. “In all honesty, though, I have no idea. I only have some leads, but nothing more.”

“Then what are those leads?” Skarmory asked, grooming her better wing. “Better a shaky lead than nothing at all.”

The water-psychic-type sighed, his limbs sagging a bit. “True. These are hardly based on hard evidence, so take these suggestions with a grain of salt… Let's see…”

He replaced the projection with a new diagram filled with various objects. “Spending extended periods of time with relatives or close friends might be an option. There's also various incenses, taking the time to do some routine exercise, among other methods. It's mostly something any healthy 'mon would do.”

“That doesn't seem too bad,” Skarmory said, tilting her head.

“I know, but it just seems too _convenient_!” Cosmo groaned, his gem glowing a fiery orange. “For something as complex as this, all you need to do is take care of yourself?”

“Haven’t you heard of Occam's Razor?”

Both pokémon in the room turned to a deino entering through the door. “You know, 'the simplest answer is usually the correct one’?”

Skarmory recognized the deino as well as the totodile that followed right behind him. She couldn't help but notice the inquisitive glance said totodile sent to the dragon-type.

“What brings you two here?” Cosmo asked, gem fading to a dull pink. “Aren't you supposed to be in that room I assigned you, Deino?”

“Got cheered up by my teammate,” the dark-type stated. “And we visited Swellow. Then we got sent here to check up on you.”

Cosmo sighed. “Fair enough. We were just finishing up, as a matter of fact.”

The totodile nodded, showing his frown more. “What's that diagram all about?”

“Confidential,” Cosmo said all too quickly, stopping the projection. “Now, how did Officer Swellow say he's going to handle this case?”

Looking at each other, the two smaller pokémon pointed at each other, simultaneously shouting, “You tell him!”

Deino rolled his eyes, and he turned around and exhaled - for a brief second, Skarmory wondered if his eyes were always black. “He suggested we recruit Skarmory.”

While the steel-type glanced to the starmie in slight concern, Cosmo nodded. “Given the circumstances, I would have to agree. Kidnapping certainly isn't the _worst_ crime, after all. Would you prefer something else, Skarmory?”

“No, I'll take this option,” Skarmory decided, not liking the implications of that 'something else.’

“Good, good,” Cosmo trailed off, walking around the deino and totodile. “I can save you the trouble of walking back there. Wait by the job board, would you?”

Deino nodded with a smile. “Sure thing! C’mon, Lockjaw, Skarmory!”

Skarmory followed behind Lockjaw, giving one last glance at the starmie. Cosmo nodded back, his gem a bright pink.

* * *

The sun had only barely touched the horizon when the group of three finally left the building. Cerberus took note of how the shape of the infirmary matched that of an altaria, whereas the adjacent buildings resembled a swellow and a pelipper.

“What’s the pelipper building for, exactly?” the deino asked Lockjaw. “We just went out the infirmary, and Officer Swellow runs that jail, so…”

“That’s Pelipper’s post office,” Lockjaw said, pointing at a bulletin board between the swellow-shaped and pelipper-shaped structures. “And that’s the job board Cosmo mentioned.”

Skarmory tilted her head. “What _does_ the job board do?”

Sighing, the totodile rubbed along his cheeks in annoyance. “It keeps track of rescue requests. Since there aren’t that many rescue teams abound, it gets filled up pretty quickly.”

“Oh, okay,” Skarmory replied, apparently satisfied. “There aren’t any job boards where I’m from.”

“Where _are_ you from, then?” Cerberus inquired.

The steel-type faltered. “Um… I don’t know…”

Lockjaw grumbled incoherently to himself, then faced the deino. “That starmie checked her brain. She only has, what, sixteen months of actual memory or something?”

“Eighteen months--”

“Yeah, yeah, close enough,” the water-type remarked. “And the reason he can’t unlock more of her memory is because of some ‘dark aura’ or whatever.”

Cerberus froze, feeling Rocard taking over. The deino heaved. “ _What_?!”

“What?” Lockjaw asked, arching a brow ridge.

“Gods dammit, not even a place like _this_ can avoid--Not even-- _Why_?!” Rocard exclaimed, then kicked against the dirt with all his might. “Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck, _fuck_!”

Lockjaw grasped Rocard’s shoulder with a stern expression. “ _What_ is making you _freak out_ over this?”

The deino stood still for a moment, a cynical laugh erupting from him. “Oh, nothing, nothing! I guess whoever decided to bring me here just _had_ to bring that curse with me!”

“What curse?!” Lockjaw demanded, shaking the draconid. “You’re not making a single _shred_ of sense!”

“ _Shadow pokémon_!” Rocard all but screamed. “And _I'm_ the guy that helped _cause their creation_!”

For a moment, all was still. Lockjaw backed away, watching fresh tears trickle down the deino's neck. Skarmory looked on, partly in confusion and partly in worry.

Letting out a sob, Rocard shouted, “I _told_ you this wasn't some everyday sickness! There's no _cure_ for what I've _done_!”

“I-I… You…” Lockjaw stammered, faltering when he couldn't think of something to help. In a creaking voice, he muttered, “How do you know your sickness caused this?”

“It just--This _symbol_ does it!” the former human spat. “And I was _born_ with this! How can I simply stop it from infecting?”

Lockjaw froze for a moment. He faced Skarmory with a thoughtful expression. “But how come Skarmory's doing _better_ after you… you know…”

“That has me curious, too,” the steel-type agreed. “I was making my way to this Mount Freeze in one moment, and then I was on the ground suffocating in the next. All I had to go off of was this… green light? They looked like eyes or something…”

Rocard kept quiet, reaching up to his eyes to rub them. Sniffling, he blinked a couple of times. “Huh… I thought I… For a second, I thought I saw a sliver of purple around you, Skarmory. But now, it's… gone?”

The steel-flying-type tilted her head. “The diagram Cosmo showed me had a bit of purple around my torso.”

“That's what a shadow pokémon has for its aura, alright,” Rocard noted, brow furrowing. “But that's not how it works! Usually a shadow pokémon only returns to normal when it's purified, and until then, they're just as cruel - no matter how close to purification they are.”

“But why does Skarmory act normal, then?” Lockjaw asked. “She's _clearly_ not the type who would betray us intentionally. Hell, she only has nineteen months of memory--”

“Eighteen months,” Skarmory corrected.

“--Same difference! So _maybe_ there's a good chance she's almost fully cured!”

“But--Wait--What--” Rocard stuttered, leaning his head forward in utter confusion. He grumbled, rubbing his face. “You might as well have hit me with a supersonic. That's not how shadow pokémon work where I'm from.”

Lockjaw sighed, then turned away, noticing Swellow and Cosmo were approaching them. “Well, here they are.”

The normal-flying-type hopped along with a piece of paper in his beak, slowing down periodically to match Cosmo's pace. Once they stood in front of Team Redemption, Swellow set the sheet down. “This is the recruitment form for Skarmory. I've already signed it in the necessary places, so just fill out the rest in your own time.”

He sighed, showing a weak smile and facing Rocard. “Formalities aside, you sure you need those bandages? You clearly don’t _look_ injured…”

“Psh, nah,” the deino said quickly. “It's the _aesthetic_ , I tell you.”

“...Riveting,” Swellow deadpanned. “I can see the hot pink sky and gridded floor already. _Any_ -ways…”

“Make sure you have a badge to give her,” Cosmo intervened, a jovial yellow tint encompassing his gem eye. Then, teal blotted the corners. “Oh-ho, Camry is going to _flip_ when she finds out another flying-type was affected by that Darkness Bug.”

Lockjaw saw Rocard flinch. The totodile shakily nodded, forming an equally-shaky smile. “Rrrright! We'll get that done when we head back! Have a good da--Uh, have a good _evening_!”

He tugged at both Rocard and Skarmory urgently, dragging them around the cluster of facilities without even a second glance back.

* * *

Once the group arrived at the town's edge, Rocard pulled himself out of the totodile's grasp with a frown. “And what was _that_ for?”

“I noticed your discomfort back there,” Lockjaw explained bluntly. “Plus, it's getting pretty late. Didn't Cerberus say you'd change back by sunset?”

Rocard narrowed his eyes, then sighed. “Fuck, how many days has it been? ...Only two, I think.”

He hesitated in continuing. “Next sundown. That's when I change back. Well… I suppose I'll let Cerberus take the wheel for the most part until then… Yeah, Cerberus, you heard me… Oh, for _fucks_ ’ sake.”

“Er…” Skarmory piped up, attempting to wedge herself into the conversation. “I’m still a little confused. You act like two completely different people, and your eyes change for some reason. Who… exactly _are_ you?”

Rocard looked at Lockjaw briefly in fatigue. “Uhhh… Basically, I'm Rocard. You'll know it's me talking for sure when these eyes have a white sclera. Former human-turned-cyndaquil…-turned-deino? Shit, that's a tongue-twister if I've ever seen one. _Anyways_ \--”

Gesturing to his gauze, he exhaled. “What I told Swellow wasn't _entirely_ false. These don't cover any wounds, persay. Instead, they cover some… significant markings. Have you ever heard of an 'Ascendant’?”

“Not particularly?” the steel-type quipped.

“...Actually, that was kinda stupid of me to ask,” Rocard reprimanded to himself. “Of _course_ you wouldn't know - though I don't blame you for not knowing. These markings have a _vastly_ different meaning depending on where you're from.”

Lockjaw stepped closer to the deino, facing Skarmory. In a hushed tone, he said, “The Ascendant is considered a fabled hero to draconids and those related to them. It's said that the Ascendant only comes in a time of world-ending danger--”

“But where _I'm_ from,” Rocard hissed, “the same symbol is used for a terrible organization - one I was forced into because it was my birthmark and _that_ alone. I wouldn't be surprised if they initially thought I was already branded like the rest of those scumbags!”

The draconid cleared his throat. “As a side note - I’ll likely need to tell you this before it snowballs - I'm not actually a pokémon. Rather, I'm a human.”

Skarmory stared. “...Okay? That sounds… oddly familiar. But I don't know if I can trust my memory as easily.”

“Huh,” Rocard noted, eyeing the skarmory for a little longer. “Might need to look into that later. For now, though, you’ll get to know Cerberus a bit better.”

Tightening the bag obtained earlier that day around his shoulder, Lockjaw peered into the town. His breath hitched. “Maybe later. I think we should head to your home now.”

Rocard sighed, lowering his head. Upon raising it, Cerberus had control. “Okay then.”

The totodile then unexpectedly dashed into the shrubbery. Both Skarmory and Cerberus looked at each other with confusion. Lockjaw's snout poked through, a scowl clear on his face.

“Now!” he hissed. “Before they see us!”

“Before _who_ sees--”

Cerberus halted, spotting Tony, a charizard, and an alakazam heading towards them. He waved to the tyranitar nervously.

“Whoa-hey, little buddy!” Tony cheerily greeted, though the smile on his face seemed… strained. “Heard you rescued the diglett without too much trouble! Were you heading to Swellow's to take care of her…?”

“Well, yeah,” Cerberus stated. “We were actually coming back just now.”

Blinking, the rock-type scratched the back of his head. “Eheh… So what's the, uh, verdict? Isn't she supposed to be behind--”

“Yes, this skarmory is.”

Cerberus poorly attempted to prevent himself from shuddering. He glanced at the alakazam.

“But there are other ways of paying for a crime,” the psychic-type said slowly, almost purposefully dragging on his words for some indeterminate reason. “Such as recruitment. I don't suppose that has something to do with your 'Darkness Bug,’ does it, Skarmory?”

The charizard perked up, narrowing his eyes at the steel-type. For a brief moment, Cerberus could've sworn he saw a blue flame behind the behemoth. “Alakazam, she doesn't have that dark aura. Supposing you read her mind, she had to have been cured _today_ \- not even our most efficient methods work that fast!”

Instead of an answer, Alakazam stared at the deino. Right as the gaze made Cerberus shift uncomfortably, he relented. “Indeed, Char. Maybe there's a method yet to be discovered.”

He lifted a spoon, bending it with a seemingly bored expression. “Come along, team.”

Tony jerked his claw away from his head in mild surprise. “Uh, sure thing. Have a good evening, you two!”

“You _three_ ,” Alakazam corrected, eyes glowing purple.

Lockjaw was carried out of the bush, the same purple light surrounding him. His eyes widened, and he started hyperventilating. “U-U-Uh heyyyy there! I--Uh--I was j-just--”

“Consider yourself _lucky_ , Lockjaw,” the psychic growled. “You got yourself into a team before I managed to find you. Have fun with those _perfect apples_ , why don’t you? Or did you _eat_ them all already?”

The totodile kept quiet, giving a pitiful glance toward Cerberus.

“Now run home to your father,” Alakazam continued, tossing the water-type aside. “I’m sure he’ll be _very_ pleased.”

Hiding behind the deino, Lockjaw looked on, making sure Team ACT were out of sight and earshot. His arms trembled. “Remember how I said ACT were dangerous, Rocard? _That’s_ why. They can’t be trusted, _especially_ not the leader.”

All Cerberus could do was sigh.

* * *

I leaned against the side of Gulpin’s building, feeling a grin spread across my face. _Finally_ , they were here. It was time for the world to be saved.

It took all I had in me not to laugh. _Time for me to spur the Ascendant. As we all know, where there’s a ‘good guy’…_

I clenched my fists.

_...there’s always a ‘bad guy’._

Now, I assessed my options. Clearly, the Ascendant was now in a rescue team, rescuing “fellow” pokémon. What better way to play my cards than to have him do just that?

But why would I just leave it at that?

Maybe - just maybe - another team should try to get in their way.

And with _me_ at the helm, I’ll steer this ship to its rightful course.


	9. Pressured

Cerberus groggily stood up, his eyes hardly blinking in sync. He still didn’t feel properly adjusted to the brightness of the room yet, but he figured it would happen eventually. An abundance of greens and yellows filled the area, giving him time to wake up--

\--Greens and yellows? Didn’t Rocard’s house have more reds and browns than anything?

Speaking of Rocard, the deino couldn’t feel his presence within his mind. A second analysis of the area unveiled a cyndaquil who looked equally as confused as him.

“What the hell is this?” the fire-type muttered, and Cerberus immediately recognized the voice. “How am I not a deino?”

“Rocard?” Cerberus asked. “How are we separated?”

Rocard’s eyes squinted even further, and he sighed. “This is a dream. It’s gotta be. But none of my dreams ever got _this_ lucid.”

A silhouette flashed between the two of them, almost going unnoticed. The cyndaquil furrowed his brow, eyeing what little detail could be salvaged out of the blurry image. “Scratch that, it’s not a dream. It’s _telepathy_.”

“But who’s doing tha--”

“ _Shush_ ,” Rocard hissed. “Do you hear that?”

For a brief moment, the deino felt inclined to disagree. Then, he heard it - a voice, barely audible over a whisper, had already begun talking. The new voice cut off repeatedly, as if the telepathic connection was unstable.

“...Role? Or do you mean the bread type of ‘roll’?” Rocard muttered, growing even more confused by the minute. “We can’t _hear_ you well enough!”

But the voice stopped. A high-pitched snap echoed through the room, and the colors drained from the walls.

* * *

Even though she had been recruited, that fact didn't help Skarmory with having a place to stay. Rather than ask about staying with either of her new teammates, however…

A pebble nicked at her armored wings, bringing her to finally open her eyes. The steel-type shifted uncomfortably atop the pole next to the rustic house, and she noticed Lockjaw staring at her in exasperation from all the way down.

“What the _hell_ are you doing up there?!” he shouted, making wide gestures. “Were you--You were _sleeping_ there?! How are you not freezing?”

“I didn't want to bother you by asking where I could stay!” Skarmory called, suddenly feeling embarrassed by the whole scenario. Jumping down and flapping her wings to slow her descent, she then muttered, “Sorry.”

Lockjaw sighed, rubbing his skull. “You're part of a rescue _team_ , now! You could've stayed with either of us, you know?”

“I, er, right…” Skarmory mumbled, looking away.

The totodile's expression softened, only to harden even more. As he knocked on the door and subsequently opened it, he exhaled. “...You didn't know. Fff--That’s _fine_ , that’s fine! Just stick with one of us as much as possible, got it?”

Skarmory could only nod.

Facing the interior of the house, Lockjaw leaned against the door frame. “Rocard, Cerberus! Time to get up!”

No sooner had he yelled those words, the deino stumbled into view. Skarmory made sure she saw his eyes well enough.

“Er, hey Cerberus!” she greeted, suddenly feeling a lot colder.

“Hi…” the draconid yawned, shivering. “Brr… Did a cold front come by last night?”

“...No, it didn't,” Lockjaw noted. “But maybe an ice-type had been walking behind us without either Skarmory or me noticing.”

“Oh, how wrong you are!”

All three teammates jolted further upright, Lockjaw being the quickest to face the new voice. Ahead of them, a medicham, an ekans, and a gengar stood pridefully.

The medicham hummed, approaching the mailbox. “So this is the new team's little _abode_. How quaint! How charming!”

Skarmory winced at the heavily condescending tone.

“Ah-ah, Medicham!” the gengar chided, still wearing that smirk. “You’ll get your chance. How about we introduce ourselves, first?”

Lockjaw narrowed his eyes, and even Cerberus had an ever-growing frown.

“What’s this shit?” the totodile groaned.

“Ekans! A glaring obstacle to bind you to your grave!”

“Medicham! A beauty of a witch that steals your heart!”

“And Gengar!” the ghost-type finally added. “A cunning master of deception, and…”

He paused, looking directly at Cerberus. “...your worst nightmare. Team Meanies!”

Suddenly, Cerberus had doubled over in laughter. Upon closer inspection, Rocard was the one to burst.

“...What?” Gengar deadpanned.

“Pfft, your group's name is 'Team Meanies’?” Rocard choked out, giggling. “Alright, alright, go ahead and do your motto and leave. Don't make me blast you off aga--Pfftch-ha-ha! Go away before I laugh harder!”

Medicham smacked her lips. “ _Rude_! I'll just take the goods and go--”

Before anyone could properly react, she opened the mailbox… and her face blanched. “...It's empty.”

“I'm sorry, it's _what_?” Ekans gasped.

Even Gengar's grin had fallen at this development. When he forced it back on, beads of sweat trickled from the top of his fur. “Aheh… You guys _sure are_ nobodies! Pelipper doesn't even deliver anything to this place, you're that unpopular!

“So this was a bust,” he proclaimed to his teammates. “Might as well come back another time!”

“Psh, yeah!” Ekans agreed, turning around.

Medicham snorted in amusement, and Team Meanies swaggered down the crossroads.

And Rocard crumpled to the ground, eyes watering because of the sheer hilarity that apparently was the team's name. Even Lockjaw couldn't help but join in the mix of laughs.

“Ahh, that's the kind of boost I needed!” the deino said, voice an octave higher. “Remind me to tell you about Team Rocket some time, 'kay?”

“Sure?” Skarmory meekly stated, only barely hiding her amused smirk.

“Are they anything like that group?” Lockjaw prodded with a toothy grin.

Rocard snickered. “Oh, trust me, Team Rocket does funnier shit than having a silly name. In fact, trying to detail all of it would take up too much time.”

Letting out a whine of disappointment, Lockjaw straightened the strap of his bag and started walking. “Killjoy.”

“Yeah, yeah, mope about it while I get Cerberus back on the line,” the deino muttered, and his eyes shifted once again.

Skarmory furrowed her brow. _Rocket, rocket… Where have I heard that before? Pretty sure they’re some type of vehicle. Are they covered in mos--_

“So how about we catch up to Lockjaw?” Cerberus piped up, jolting the steel-type from her thoughts.

Apparently, he noticed her sudden movements. “Oh. Sorry if I broke your train of thought just now. Hopefully it wasn't something important.”

The skarmory covered her beak, a light blush forming. “It wasn't too important. Yeah, let's catch up to Lockjaw!”

* * *

By the time Cerberus and Skarmory had caught up to Lockjaw, they had already crossed the center of the plaza. Several of the pokémon standing around gazed at the draconid with varying degrees of disgust.

However, one of them only looked at him with fear: a small jumpluff sitting on the roots of the single giant tree around the center. The grass-type’s worry didn’t appear to be directed towards him, though, as they glanced at another passerby with the same expression. Cerberus could do naught but return an empathetic look, and he continued following Lockjaw.

“Welcome, one and all, to Wigglytuff’s Club!”

A boisterous, high-pitched voice rang up ahead, belonging to - surprise, surprise - a wigglytuff behind a stand. He stared at Team Redemption with a gleeful face. “Hey there, you three! Interested in some tickets? With today being the grand re-opening of my club, I’m offering a special little deal!”

Cerberus slowed down, arching a brow. He scanned the back of Wigglytuff’s stand and spotted a large array of tickets, most of which sticking to some place on a giant map. “What do those tickets do?”

“Why, these open up friend areas, of course!” the normal-type explained, resting one arm on the countertop and pointing at some of the tickets along the map. “You know how you have to fight off a variety of pokémon in dungeons, right?”

“Yeah?” Cerberus confirmed, checking behind himself and noticing that Lockjaw stood there with a bored expression.

“Well, these tickets give you special access to various spots,” Wigglytuff continued, “and if you defeat a pokémon who’s listed on the tickets, they might try to join your team!”

His smile faded a little bit. “...Just try not to forcibly recruit a pokémon that’s not on your obtained tickets. You might…”

By this point, the normal-type’s smile had vanished completely, replaced with a grimace. “...Let’s just say it had something to do with why I had to close down shop a few years back.

“Oh, what am I saying?” he chastised to himself. “This is a day of celebration! Heck, for listening to my rambling, I'll give you three tickets - on the house!”

Cerberus hesitated on the offer, but the tickets were thrusted in front of him before he could respond properly. He weakly smiled and took the slips, muttering, “Thanks.”

“Not a problem!” Wigglytuff laughed, then widened his eyes. “Almost forgot! I'll get you your team's respective tickets real quick. Deino, totodile, and skarmory, right?”

“And cyndaquil,” Cerberus added. “He's not here right now, but he's on our team regardless.”

“Gotcha…”

Once the pink normal-type gathered three of the four additional tickets, he scrunched up his brow. Turning around, he sighed. “Unfortunately, my catalogues haven't been updated in a while. I'd have to assume you have a good enough place to live, Deino. No offense.”

“It's Cerberus,” the draconid politely interjected, “and it's fine. My friend lets me stay with him!”

“Ah, good on you, then!” Wigglytuff replied, bouncing back into his initial attitude with ease. “Safe travels, Cerberus!”

Cerberus nodded with a small smile, then looked between Lockjaw and Skarmory.

“Let's just go over to the job board,” the totodile grumbled.

 _“He's still mad about me not telling him more about Team Rocket?”_ Rocard moaned in the back of Cerberus's mind. _“Really? Bah, whatever. He'll know later.”_

Skarmory leaned toward the dragon-type, frowning. “He might still be frustrated with me. I don't blame him; it was something pretty dumb.”

“Like what?” Cerberus inquired. “Lockjaw's a grumpy purrloin, so it couldn't have been _that_ dumb, right?”

The avian's face flushed. “I, uh, um… I slept on a pole last night.”

While Rocard burst out laughing from within, Cerberus's jaw slacked a tad. “...A pole? I think there was one by Rocard's house. Was it… _that_ one?”

“Y-Yeah, it was,” Skarmory mumbled. “I didn't know it was _yours_ \--er, _Rocard's_ at the time, though. Lockjaw saw me in the morning and… wasn't too happy about it.”

Cerberus looked away, Rocard's fit of laughter beginning to bleed into his state of mind as well. _Why do you find this so funny?_

 _“Just think about it!”_ the former human retorted. _“What do you think happens when someone mentions being ‘around a pole’ at night?”_

 _...Sleep?_ Cerberus answered.

Rocard snorted in amusement. _“No, nobody usually sleeps on a pole. I was thinking of--Gah, it wouldn't be funny if I explained it.”_

The deino sighed, turning to Skarmory once more. “We should catch up to Lockjaw.”

* * *

Larry waddled around the pond, humming a tune his mother often sang. He reached the steps that protruded into the water and looked ahead. Seeing Whiscash was asleep, the caterpie stopped singing.

“How come you aren't my papa?” he whispered, as if such a question was normal. Raising his voice slightly, he told the water-type, “Mama said Papa's not gonna be my papa anymore, Uncle Whiscash.”

Whiscash snorted, eyes blinking rapidly. “Ghnn--Wha… Oh, it's you, little Larry. What brings you here this early?”

“Can you tell me more about Papa?” Larry continued.

“Ah! Certainly, kid,” the elder answered jovially. “Which story do you want to hear again?”

“A new story!” Larry replied, bouncing across the stone path closer to the water-ground-type. “C'n you talk about Mount Freezie?”

“Mount Freeze, huh…”

Eyes widening, Whiscash shivered. He sloppily plastered a smile to his face. “...How about the adventure through Magma Caverns?”

“New story!” the caterpie emphasized.

“I can't, kid,” Whiscash muttered, downcast. “Wait 'til you're older… Okay?”

“Aww, _pleeease_?” Larry pressured. “I wanna know before Papa isn't my papa anymore!”

Whiscash froze. He looked the bug-type in the eye. “Before… what?”

“Mama said he's leaving us for a long long time,” Larry stated, then leaned into the water-type's body. “So I wanna hear about Mount Freezie!”

Sinking a little further into the pond, Whiscash looked away. “I… Let me get something real quick.”

Larry nodded, putting himself back onto the weathered stone and watching Whiscash dive under the surface. A miniature wave splashed on him, making him shiver a little.

As he waited, the caterpie looked up into the cloudy sky. He wistfully followed one particular cloud with his eyes. _I wish I knew Papa better. Maybe I could ask May… But I don't wanna be mean to Uncle Whiscash._

He perked up. _What's he getting? Is it a super awesome gift with the power of Jirachi?! ...Naw, that can't be it. It's gotta be Mew's power!_

Before the bug-type could further exaggerate the actions of an elder, said elder popped back up with… an ice cube.

“Okay, kid, here ya go!” Whiscash announced with a chuckle. “Take this to your mother, why don't ya?”

“Um…”

Larry couldn't help but be intimidated by the block of ice; it was just as tall as he was! How could he carry it like this?

Whiscash, as if he knew the thoughts that crossed the child's mind, sent a weary smile. “How about you use your string shot to lasso it? I assure you it's lighter than you might think. Don't let it melt before you get to your mother!”

After a brief moment's hesitance, Larry put on a determined expression. “Got it!”

“Larry! _Larry_!”

The caterpie jolted upright upon hearing his mother's calls. “Mama! I'm over here with Uncle Whiscash!”

Rey zipped from the base of the apartments, heavily panting and with fear in her eyes. “Oh, thank _goodness_ you're safe! Larry, I need you to stay at home until I say so, okay?”

“Am I in trouble?” Larry groaned.

“No! You're doing good, I just--”

“Ma'am, what's wrong?” Whiscash asked, laying a fin on the stone.

“May's gone!” Rey shouted. “There was a chill in the air where she was sleeping, and her room's a total mess! I think--I think she was _kidnapped_!”

Whiscash's face paled, and he grabbed the (slightly melted) cube. “I'll go contact Officer Swellow. I'm sure his team could find her.”

Tears twinkling at the edges of her eyes, Rey hardened her gaze. “Alright. Thank you. Larry, stay within reach.”

The caterpie nodded, jumping into his mother's arms.

* * *

Truth be told, Tony hated the “business room,” if only because of its lack of size. It was a reasonable complaint, of course, but he never complained to his teammates about it - at least verbally.

Especially with Alakazam in the room.

“I take it you two have been holding up since my expedition to Grand Canyon,” the psychic-type stated, leaving no hint that it was a question.

“Yes, sir,” Char responded. “Kecleon's stocks have been affirmed, Whiscash and Butterfree's hotel are all in order, and the postal service is on schedule.”

“Team formation requests have been thoroughly examined,” Tony added, leaning back a little, “and badges were also carried out accordingly.”

Alakazam sighed, twirling one of his psychic spoons. “Including the young Snapper and his little buddy.”

“Er, yes,” the rock-type confirmed. “No law preventing a criminal - or _son_ of a criminal - from being in a rescue team.”

“Very good,” came the psychic's reply, tone suggesting otherwise. “We come _this_ close to catching that damned dragonite, and our best chance has taken advantage of our 'system’. Truly outstanding work.”

Tony looked away.

“We still have other ways,” Char noted. “Keeping track of Lockjaw is only gonna get easier with his badge.”

Blinking slowly, Alakazam leaned forward. “Hm. I should've asked Xatu about tracking those devices, had I known about this.”

He stroked his whiskers, an ear twitching. “Ah, that leads nicely to our main topic: my attempts at questioning Xatu have proven… interesting, to say the least.”

“Well?” Char prodded, gesturing with a claw. “Out with it.”

In a rare display of hesitance, the psychic licked his lips. “How much do either of you know about an 'Ascendant’?”

The other two members exchanged glances. Tony's pulse quickened. _Ho boy._

“I don't know all that much about it,” Char stated. “Supposedly, this Ascendant guy shows up only in 'times of great danger’ or something.”

“I see. Does this symbol mean anything to you?”

As soon as the leader showed the scrapbook, Tony could hardly keep still. Alakazam's attention turned to the rock-dark-type.

“...I assume that's a yes,” Alakazam finally said, voice sharp as a dagger. “Care to explain the significance behind it?”

Tony sighed, knowing he couldn't outright lie about it. “It's the Ascendant's 'mark’. Only one pokémon is told to have it on its body. Char's correct on the timing of when this 'mon appears.”

“And who would this pokémon be, exactly?” the psychic interrogated. “Xatu stated that the Ascendant is among us, and _you_ clearly seem to know enough about this to squirm like a magikarp. So let me repeat myself. _Who. Is. This. Pokémon_?”

The silence that followed had reached deafening levels. Tony knew that if he didn't respond quickly, he would likely have it forced out of him with the psychic's miracle eye.

And so, he had to place his bets: tell him of Rocard, or the deino that accompanied him?

“The, er, Ascendant… He's…”

* * *

“...Definitely a second pecha berry. Please.”

Lockjaw rubbed his eyes, which still hadn't adjusted to the sunlight. The smell of pechas persisted, much to his dismay.

He turned to Cerberus and Skarmory, the latter of which having a similar predicament. “At least we didn't have to fight another elekid. That nidoran didn't really stand out, though.”

“She was the only one in that group that didn't chase us, though,” Cerberus pointed out, stuffing his face with another pecha. “...But her barb _stung_.”

“We rescued her, didn't we?” Skarmory reminded.

Lockjaw nodded, then glared at his badge. “Wish this stupid thing teleported us to the post office with her.”

“ **Access denied. Your rank must be Bronze or higher. Points until next rank: thirty-five.** ”

“Gahh…” the totodile sighed.

Cerberus stood a bit more upright, and he faced the water-type with a furrowed brow. “Rocard's wanting to know how we've gotten fifteen points. Wasn't this mission worth five?”

Without missing a beat, Lockjaw said, “Our mission involving our third member was a D-rank mission, which is worth ten points.”

“Ah, okay,” the deino mumbled, eyeing the steel-type in question.

“I'm still _really_ sorry about that,” Skarmory said, frowning.

“You don't need to keep apologizing about it!” Lockjaw snapped, internally wincing as soon as he did.

“Okay, sorry…”

The totodile's next breath was a mixture of a sigh and a groan. _Tell the apologetic to stop apologizing. Brilliant idea, Lockjaw._

Cerberus looked ahead, expression unreadable. “The sun's getting pretty low.”

“Huh?” Skarmory breathed, noticing the truth in the statement. “Oh yeah. We should be getting to town, shouldn't we?”

“Uh…” the deino trailed off, seemingly at odds with the question. “Right.”

“How about we ride you, then?” Lockjaw half-heartedly suggested to the steel-type. “It’s hardly another thirty minutes 'til we get there.”

Eyes widening, Skarmory unfurled her wings. “Hop on!”

“Wait, _now_?”

“No, in fourteen minutes,” the draconid snarked, sclera whitening. “When did you _think_ she meant?”

“I--Augh, skip it, let's just get on.”

Climbing atop the skarmory's back, Lockjaw latched himself closer to the tail end. Rocard, however, struggled to reach high enough.

“Fuck… Is this how a pudgy lillipup feels?” he grumbled. “This quadrupedal shit _really_ doesn't help.”

“How'd you get on Dad's back, then?” Lockjaw jibed, receiving a glare from the dragon-type.

“He _picked_ me up, of course.”

“I can lower myself to make it easier?” Skarmory said, doing so as much as she could. “Is that better?”

“Yes,” Rocard all but growled. “Such a _beautiful afternoon_. Can't wait for the _sun to go down_.”

“...Is being a quadruped _that bad_ to you?” Lockjaw asked.

“Oh, I don't mean to rag on quadrupeds,” the deino responded, “but as someone who's spent all their life as a bipedal up until recently, it's kinda hard not to get frustrated having to share a body that you don't know with someone you know just as much. Also, _I can't hold things in my hands_.”

Rocard held up his forelegs and shook them for emphasis.

“So… May I carry you to the town now?” Skarmory requested after a moment's silence.

Facing the avian once again, Rocard's expression significantly lightened up. “Oh sure, go ahead.”

Lockjaw stared at the two, his eye twitching. Letting out a breath, the totodile steadied his grip. _Maybe with luck, he'll break the record for fastest mood swing._

As they rode into the air, Rocard focused back on the water-type. “I suppose it's as good a time as any to talk about Team Rocket.”

“...Oh right!” Lockjaw recalled, flashing a toothy grin. “That's the name of the team you mentioned this morning. What stupid stuff did they do?”

Rocard snickered. “Since we only have a few minutes, I'll go with the one I remember best. Let's see…”

* * *

Before Rocard could even finish describing the setting - including clarification of some terms that apparently didn't exist in this world - the team had arrived at the post office. There, the nidoran waited alongside a poochyena.

“Hey, over here!” the nidoran called. “Sorry again about poisoning you, Mister Deino!”

Rocard raised a claw to halt his current storytelling, then waved at the duo. “We had pechas on hand, don't worry.”

The poochyena narrowed his eyes, leaning closer to the poison-type. “You got help from a _draconid_? Jen, what were you thinking?”

“Kain, you sent out a request!” Jen laughed. “Only rescue teams get those, and draconids can be part of a team. Why don't _you_ start a team of your own?”

Kain looked away, cheeks flushing. Focusing back on the trio, he stood up straighter. “Ah--Er, here's your reward! It's not much, but I think it would be in better paws with a rescue team.”

He shakily gave the reward - a few rocks and a seed - to Lockjaw. As much as Rocard desired to correct the canine, a glare from his partner swiftly shut down any attempts at doing so.

“Thanks,” Lockjaw said simply.

The clients bid their farewells to the rescue team. Not long after reaching the town square, Rocard watched the amicable wigglytuff putting away the last of his tickets; the (still rather shady) persian checking a few more slots with a gleeful expression; and the kecleon brothers bickering over which way they needed to organize the shelves.

After taking the time to observe the square, Rocard found this practice… admittedly therapeutic. _These guys all seem to know their way of life. Perhaps, with the worst of my human life out of the picture, maybe I could… live a normal…_

He felt the itch to look behind himself. Obliging his urge, the former human saw the remaining sliver of the sun vanish from the horizon.

…

_Wait._

Rocard snapped back around, suddenly grateful the house was in view. His breathing became labored, and he glanced at Lockjaw and Skarmory with a shudder.

Lockjaw seemed to be talking, what with his mouth opening and closing, but the deino couldn't decipher the string of words. Lurching forward, Rocard stumbled a few steps ahead.

The house was _right there_ , he _knew_ it! Now all he had to do was enter it and--

* * *

Well, well. That certainly didn't go how I planned it.

I laid behind the Ascendant's house, relieved that no one bothered to look back here. Someone hit the ground with a resounding whump, no doubt the Ascendant. Considering the time, I shouldn't have jerked up in surprise.

But I did.

Anyways, I fiddled with the silk that metapod gave me. She apparently saw me sulking by Persian's little shack after that… debacle. Invited me to her home, tried cheering me up. Succeeded.

She offhandedly mentioned her brother got rescued by an “aspiring duo,” as she put it.

“And who might those kids have been?” I asked, not really expecting much.

“Hm… I think they were a cyndaquil and a totodile. Larry played with the totodile a lot. Lockjaw was his name, probably.”

Huh. Small world, after all.

A plan emerged in my head. “Hey, I think I know those two. We're rivals!”

“Cool,” the metapod remarked. “What's that got to do with anything?”

“Well, they don't think I'm a good enough rival, but I'm wanting to get to know them a bit better. Mind helping a 'mon out?”

“What's in it for me?”

And then I realized how lopsided the scale was. Maybe a couple of items? “A thousand poké, perhaps? Which mystery dungeon would you wanna explore?”

“...If you're escorting me to the end of a dungeon…”

There was a long pause. Just as I started to doubt she would take the offer, she said, “You know, I never reached the end of Sinister Woods. Raise it to fifteen-hundred poké, and it's a deal.”

I hesitated in accepting the offer before realizing the potential for this plan to work. “You mind staying there for a bit? It'll be a day, tops.”

“Eh, why not.”

...Y’know, I’d think anybody else would stay far away from me in this situation. This bug’s either foolish… or she’s got more screws loose than a malfunctioning klinklang. Probably the former if I had to give her credit.

Long story short, the metapod joined me in a trip to this “Sinister Woods” for the afternoon, and I waited near the Ascendant's house since.

Since the Ascendant apparently was changing back tonight, that proved to be doubly convenient for me.

And now to wait for tomorrow...


	10. Unexpected

_Passage 1:_

_I can't believe I'm doing this. Somehow, the admins didn't oppose handing a few scrapbooks to me. They'll probably try to find whatever I write later. I really need Torkoal to get the hang of her ember…_

_Then again, the smoke would set off the sprinklers. Damn. But I'm getting off-topic._

_Well, tonight, I'll be “participating” in a heist on Phenac. And by “participating”, I mean “enduring needles everywhere in my body”. A perfectly normal way to participate, I assure you. Assuming “you” means “me”. Cole would not be happy if he saw this in my handwriting._

_Kirlia's sitting next to me as I write all this, though. He's nice, at least. Nicer than the majority of the employees here. To think he belongs in the hands of Cole… I can't think of anything more ironic. I'd rather not let Kirlia evolve into a gallade if I had the choice._

_But since when did my choices matter?_

_…_

_Maybe I went a little too far there. Of course my choices matter._

_Right?_

* * *

Rocard woke up with the feeling of drills piercing his head. He groaned, unable to even open his eyes, let alone sit up.

At times like this, a voice of any volume would likely disrupt his senses…

“Skarmory, get my bag!” Lockjaw whispered harshly, well aware of his partner's agony. “On the shelf! And don't make any--”

A few objects crashed into the floor, jolting Rocard enough to open his eyes briefly.

“--loud… noises. You got it?”

“Yeah,” Skarmory claimed, handing Lockjaw the bag.

“I think this heal seed from yesterday's mission should help,” he said. “Rocard, open wide.”

Rocard opened his mouth despite the pain, rewarded with an awfully bitter taste when he crunched down on the seed. He nearly spat out the seed right then, but Lockjaw clamped his mouth shut.

“Don't chew it!” he reprimanded.

Once the entire seed had gone down his throat - and _stayed_ down - Rocard leaned heavily against the totodile. “Nn… How long was I out?”

“All night,” Lockjaw stated, fatigue evident in his voice. “I had some chestos to keep myself up in case you got up sooner. Considering how you're acting, I shouldn't be surprised it's already dawn.”

“How I'm acting…?”

Rocard made an effort to sit up, and he succeeded with Lockjaw's help. His head pounded, but he forced open his eyes. Looking down on his body, he realized that he was a cyndaquil once again.

The former human curled his hands experimentally - or would they rather be his _paws_? He still didn't think of them as such, current form be damned. “Fucking finally.”

“So now, I vote we stay within town for today,” Lockjaw announced, patting the cyndaquil's shoulder and yawning. “It'll only be a little while before I pass out.”

Rocard laughed a bit before coughing. “And I'm definitely… voting for that. What about you, Skarmory?”

“Er, well…” the steel-type began. “I suppose we could take a break for today. I'll check the mail for you.”

“Woo-hoo, break time…” Lockjaw cheered, raising a fist half-heartedly.

Once Skarmory exited and closed the door, Rocard relaxed, lying back down on his bed. He gazed at the ceiling, basking in the relative silence.

Come to think of it…

There was something he couldn't quite shake off just yet. _Cerberus? Yoohoo, wake up… Cerberus?_

…

The silence suddenly became less reassuring to him. _This better not be some stunt you're trying to pull… If it is, it's worked its magic. Cerberus? You in there?_

Even though he knew his doppleganger didn't indulge in pranks, he had to try as many options as he could make up. Those options, however, were running out.

Rocard furrowed his brow in frustration. _Maybe invoking an emotion would work… Hey, Cerberus! ...I hate how you hijacked my body!_

While he didn't exactly lie, a strange sense of guilt pricked against his back regardless. _...Cerberus? What did I do this time? Would you answer already?_

“Uh, Rocard?” Lockjaw interjected, standing over the cyndaquil. “You've had that expression for a while now. Do I need to get you another heal seed?”

“Wait wha--No!” Rocard denied, sitting up a little too quickly. “Just thinking about Cerberus.”

Lockjaw rolled his eyes, walking back to the table and fiddling with one of the rusty lockpicks. “What about him?”

Hesitating, Rocard looked toward the doorway. _How do I explain it best… He doesn't _seem_ like he's giving me the silent treatment, but I can't hear him. I wonder if he can hear me… Oh, quit it, Rocard! Focus on the explanation!_

“There you go with that stony expression again,” Lockjaw sighed, dropping the tool onto the table with a clink. “I'll ask you when I wake up.”

Rocard sighed back, watching the totodile return to his straw bed.

Perhaps he shouldn't worry so much; Cerberus only came about after the whole Ascendant business changed his body a second time! Why would he suddenly get concerned over an invading mind?

But this was a _sentient_ mind. One that possibly didn't _exist_ before this debacle. Just what was all this about being the Ascendant, anyhow?

Thinking about this dilemma only worsened his headache. Maybe he should get some shut-eye…

* * *

Skarmory could hardly think of something to do. Both her teammates were asleep, the mailbox was still empty, and she wouldn't venture into a mystery dungeon alone if she could help it.

Come to think of it, did she need to leave for any reason right now? An epiphany soon followed that train of thought. _...Why do I feel like I should answer that with yes?_

She turned her head upward, hearing a pair of flapping wings. As it turned out, a pelipper descended directly above her. Skarmory backed up in surprise.

“Don't mind me, ma'am,” the water-type said, landing on top of the mailbox with an uncanny level of grace. “Just a delivery.”

“Oh, sorry,” Skarmory responded, weakly smiling. “I was really deep in my thoughts and--”

“No need to explain yourself,” the pelipper interrupted with a raised wing. He briefly dipped his beak into the opening of the mailbox.

Once the box was closed up, Pelipper went back into the air. “Adieu, Skarmory!”

As the big-beaked avian glided back through the town, Skarmory opened and peered into the box. A few pieces of newspaper and some requests sat in a bundle, disappointing her a little. _At least it's something to read._

Grabbing the paper with her talons and doing her best to unfold it all without tearing it, she soon realized trying to read it would likely prove fruitless; the pages were written in a language she didn't recognize.

At least the drawings looked nice. The largest one showed Alakazam of Team ACT in front of a shiftry with a stern expression. One image below that had a worried-looking butterfree, as well as a metapod near the corner. Some of the text stood out with red highlights.

Skarmory wrapped up the newspaper, putting it back in the mailbox. Her thoughts wandered back to Rocard ( _I didn't confuse the two again, did I?_ she fretted) and his comment on that mischievous trio from yesterday. _Rockets are some type of vehicle, aren't they? Maybe he would know better about this._

She shook herself out of her thoughts, noticing the assorted requests that were still on the ground. Just before she picked them up, however, a butterfree fluttered nearby.

“Okay, okay, this should be it,” the bug-type muttered to herself. Glancing at Skarmory, she perked up a bit. “Excuse me! Is this Rocard's house?”

“Oh!” Skarmory exclaimed, not quite expecting the question. “Uh, yes. This is Rocard's. I'm part of his team… Do you need anything?”

“Thank goodness,” the butterfree sighed. “I need help finding my niece, a metapod. I think she was kidnapped!”

Suddenly, a few pieces from the newspaper's imagery made a lot more sense. “I, well, um…”

“Ohhh, this is taking too long,” Butterfree grumbled. “ _Please_ , could I speak to Rocard _immediately_?”

Skarmory nodded vigorously, backing into the door. She held up a wing. “R-Right! I'll go get him, you stay here!”

Hastily twisting the knob with her talons, she squeezed through the opening and nearly slammed the door shut. She exhaled in frustration when she noticed both of her sleeping teammates.

Oddly enough, the room felt colder than she remembered… though that could work to her advantage in waking the two up. The steel-type tapped Rocard's head, frantically whispering, “We've got company! Wake up!”

Rocard tossed and turned as if having an unpleasant dream. “...Is it another… another fffuckin’ suit… Macy, dammit…”

“There's a butterfree who needs our help!” Skarmory hissed, prodding him a bit more. “Who's this Macy anyhow?”

Stirring from his slumber, Rocard lazily blinked. “...Oh hey, Skarmory. Who did you say needs help?”

“A butterfree,” the avian repeated in exasperation. “She needs help finding her metapod!”

“Ah, fuck…” Rocard mumbled, sitting up. “First her caterpie, now her metapod? I'm calling it now that we'll have to rescue _Rey_ at some point.”

“Shouldn't Lockjaw come along, too?”

The cyndaquil made a face, then looked to the totodile in question. “Sure, bring the guy who stayed up all night and only just fell asleep ten minutes ago with us. That's a _terrible_ idea!”

“But aren't you still recovering from… whatever happened to you last night?” Skarmory asked.

“At least _I_ slept throughout the night,” Rocard retorted, wincing and clutching his head. “Gah, let's just go. Rey isn't going to get any less worried.”

Compared to his movements before standing up, the fire-type caught Skarmory off-guard by how quickly he shot for the door. He peeked his snout through, plastering a smile…

...A smile that immediately dropped. “Those idiots again.”

When Skarmory opened the door wider, she spotted Team Meanies conversing with Rey. Strangely, Gengar was nowhere to be found.

“Looks like they're trying to 'help’ find Metapod as well,” Rocard muttered, then chuckled a bit despite himself. “Guess they share more in common with Team Rocket than I thought.”

Skarmory's eyes widened, recalling her thoughts from earlier. “Oh, that reminds me, do you know--”

“Hey, buckos!” Rocard shouted, bringing the two troublemakers’ attention to him and effectively cutting off Skarmory. “Just what kind of stunt are you trying to pull?”

Ekans straightened, scowling at the cyndaquil. “If by 'stunt’, you mean 'offer'--”

“No, I say 'stunt’ and I _mean_ it,” Rocard retorted, a smirk pulling at his mouth. “Unlike you twerps.”

Lowering her head, Skarmory exhaled. It took more effort than she'd liked to withhold asking, _Are we supposed to rescue Metapod or badmouth these guys?_

“What is the meaning of this?” Rey piped up, looking increasingly frustrated. “My niece is in danger! Quit your bickering - _all of you_!”

This time, it was Rocard's turn to frown and Ekans’ turn to grin. The cyndaquil didn't say anything else about it, though.

Skarmory hesitantly nudged her leader. “Can we go now?”

“Just one last question, Rey,” Rocard started, watching the two misfits dash through the road. “Which dungeon?”

“Sinister Woods,” the butterfree clarified, “just east of here, plenty of highs and lows. It's not far, either. Do be careful, though…”

Nodding, Rocard headed to the crossroads, Skarmory following just behind.

As tempted as she was to try asking again, the steel-type noticed Rocard's furious expression. That question had to wait.

* * *

The wind had started picking up when Rocard finally arrived at the entrance. He couldn't help but shiver a bit at the drop in temperature. Staring down the surprisingly steep hill he climbed, the colder air made sense to him, odd as it was.

A little cold wouldn't deter him, though, especially with his type resistance. Looking over to Skarmory, she seemed to have a similar predicament but otherwise appeared fine.

“Let's see…” Rocard mumbled, pulling out his badge. “How many floors are here?”

“ **Sinister Woods contains: twelve floors,** ” the device buzzed.

“...Beating out Mount Steel by a few floors…”

Skarmory stepped forward, frowning. “Th-There's been something I've been meaning to ask you, uh, Rocard.”

The cyndaquil quirked a brow. “Shoot.”

“Just what is a 'rocket’?”

Hesitating for a moment, Rocard opened his mouth in realization. “Ah. Well, I'll try to explain this as best I can, considering the lack of… transportation… the kind that doesn't involve teleportation.”

“Er, it won't take long, will it?” Skarmory asked, shrinking almost immediately afterwards. “U-Uh, you know, 'cause we need to help that metapod and…”

“Right,” the fire-type noted. “Might take time to describe it - time that could be spent on our mission. Good question, though.”

Skarmory's face heated up. Whether it was due to embarrassment or his compliment, Rocard couldn't tell. “O-Okay, let's just g-go…”

As soon as the two entered the dungeon, another gust of chilly wind passed through. Rocard shuddered, finding another seed on the floor nearby, as well as the stairs. He picked it up and led Skarmory up the steps.

On the next floor, he let the steel-type wander around a bit while he studied the apparent dew drops on several tree leaves. He peered through the sparse layer of foliage above, noticing that the sun had already neared its apex.

“So _that's_ why, huh…” he realized, turning to his partner. “I think we'll run into some ice-types arou--”

Only after turning did he find Skarmory absent. A tile that he swore wasn't there before contrasted against the brown dirt.

_Was this where she went?_ he pondered, analyzing the dark gray material. Yellow and red markings dotted the surface. _Only one way to find out._

Rocard stepped on the tile, throwing caution to the wind…

...and in a flash of light, he stood on soil.

He looked around, a wave of nausea rotting in the pit of his stomach. “Am I on the second floor? What _was_ that just now?”

His badge rumbled and beeped, prompting him to bring up the screen. “Ah, jeez, footprint runes. Is there a language setting for Unov--Er, Unown-script? Good thing I studied that--”

Rocard's breath hitched at the sudden conversion. “Ooookay… 'Floor 1’. Fantastic. 'Yellow marks are teammates’... _Wow_. She's all the way over _there_. Just my luck…”

Closing up the device, he spotted only one exit from his current location, somewhat obscured by barren branches.

He sighed, fidgeting with his bag. _At least this gives me time to think of an explanation for what a rocket is to someone who likely hasn't even heard of an automobile._

As he walked, Rocard eyed the foliage. _These mystery dungeons… Where do I even start? Smooth ground, corners that seem a little _too_ perfect, and various hostile pokémon, all lumped into some landmass that even Palkia could have trouble navigating! Maybe that was its design…_

He shuddered. _And they're supposedly everywhere. Is it possible to 'normalize’ a mystery dungeon? ...Sounds like something Macy would be headfirst in researching._

Clenching a fist, he shook his head. _No. Not the time to be thinking about her._

Forcing himself to maintain his pace, Rocard sharply inhaled the cold air. A lone oddish noticed him entering the next room, already using a growth technique.

“Oh look, a distraction,” the cyndaquil deadpanned, suddenly relieved his train of thought was cut short.

Instead, a whole other wave of uncertainty hit him. _I don't think I learned any fire moves. Shit._

The oddish seemed to prefer abusing its growth, however. Snickering, the fire-type sidestepped towards the opposite exit. _Hah! Such an action is indeed a great boon in the epic battle of..._

Rocard sighed, stepping around the grass-type once. _I'm getting way too theatrical with this. If anything, I could chuck those rocks from yesterday at it._

While keeping track of how many times it boosted its stats, he only barely reached the exit when it finally began its approach. Rocard sprinted down the tunnel-like pathway, checking behind his back every now and then and learning the unfortunate fact that this oddish maintained his pace.

He frantically dug a hand into his bag and pulled out one of the rocks. “Go away!”

Then, he threw the stone with all his might, slamming it right into the grass-type's face. The oddish recoiled, but it soon regained its stance and stepped forward.

“Damn, that wasn't enough?” Rocard sputtered, trying his luck with another throw.

His opponent dodged to the side, however, leaving the projectile to roll across the ground pitifully. At this point, the oddish was certainly close enough to lash out at him.

Rocard took in a big breath in anticipation, but his lungs burned from all of the running… Though something in his instincts were warning him of something else.

His wheezy exhale produced a layer of smoke, landing full-force on the oddish and blinding it. _A smokescreen! Yes!_

He took a moment to steady himself, then rammed the grass-type. When it fell to the floor and didn't rise back up, he pumped both his fists triumphantly.

“Fuck yeah!” he shouted. “Man, that feeling never gets old…”

Taking out his badge again, Rocard realized that Skarmory was nearby. “Oh, good. Gotta’ meet back up.”

A red dot blinked on the screen. He turned to the corresponding path and noticed a swinub. _...If I can reach her in time, that is._

* * *

Lockjaw peeked open his eyes, staring into the silent fireplace. As he breathed through his nostrils, the clouds lightened up outside, cascading through the chimney. He watched a few specks of dust float about in the rays before he forced himself up.

Letting out a yawn, the totodile stretched his arms. “G'morning, guys. I think I'm rested well e…”

Neither of his teammates were in the house.

“...My _gods_ …” Lockjaw groaned, smacking his head. “They didn't just start a mission without me, did they? Rocard, you gotta’ rest…”

A knock at the door jolted him more than he liked. Lockjaw trudged along the floor, dragging his bag off of the bed with him. Resisting the urge to swing the door haphazardly, he instead snuck a glance through the keyhole.

And three figures he knew all too well stood on the other side.

Waiting.

_Ohh nononono!_ Lockjaw fretted, lurching away from the handle in a hurry. _This is bad--No, not just bad, _catastrophically_ bad! _The_ worst possible guys to be at this doorstep! Shitshit what do I do what do I do--_

He nearly yelped when Char knocked at the door again. Heart pounding, the totodile wracked his brain for ideas.

When nothing good came up, he sagged. _I'd get caught if I tried to escape. Maybe I'll just hope for the best…?_

“No response,” Char suddenly claimed from the other end. “Think they're trying to hide?”

A heavy pause weathered at Lockjaw's stillness.

“...Not the one we're looking for,” Alakazam finally responded. “We'll try again later.”

After the last of the footsteps faded, Lockjaw gasped out a breath he didn't notice he was holding. Tears threatened to pour, but he soon accompanied his ragged breathing with a laugh.

“Ha… Haha…!” he wheezed, clutching his heart. “I'm okay! I'm--”

His smile dropped when he started analyzing what the psychic had said. _'Not the one we're looking for.’ If he scanned the inside of this place, he'd know I'm here. That means… either Skarmory or Rocard was that 'one’._

How well he slept seemed like the least of his worries now.

* * *

Strangely enough, the forest seemed to get warmer for Rocard and Skarmory as they went deeper. Not only that, some areas had puddles of water in varying sizes.

The early pattern of ice-types had disappeared. In its stead were pokémon like scyther and exeggutor, the former showing up scarily frequent for a rare and strong pokémon.

“I just hope we aren't near a nest of scyther,” Rocard confided with Skarmory during a lull in battles, tensing up. “I need to learn a fire move _real_ soon…”

“At least you can use smokescreen now?” Skarmory said in an attempt to ease him. She drew her attention to the room ahead. “Oh! The stairs are right there! Which floor is this again?”

“Uhh…”

The cyndaquil stared ahead blankly, but he shook his head to clear his thoughts. He retrieved his badge and squinted at the screen. “We're on the twelfth right now. Metapod should be on the next. C'mon!”

He darted to the stairs, leaving behind a dazed Skarmory. Once they reached the thirteenth floor, however…

“Keh-heh! You made it up here in one piece!”

Gengar sat atop a rock with a wicked grin, his cronies leaning on the rock beside him. His grin faded a little when he looked Team Redemption over. “Hm… Maybe not. Was the little totodile too much of a wimp to join along?”

“If you lacked any sleep for the night, you'd be out cold too,” Rocard stated, pursing his lips. “But right now, I need to find Metapod. I don't have time for you.”

Ekans snickered, while Gengar stood up, grinning ear-to-ear. Medicham clenched a fist, smirking.

“Oh, but you're not the only ones looking for her, are you?” Gengar noted. “Keh… How 'bout I tell you a little secret?”

Rocard narrowed his eyes. “I think I know where this is going…”

“And you'd probably be right,” Ekans sneered, though Gengar bumped him atop the head.

“Enough with the compliments,” the ghost-type hissed, taking a moment to regain his posture. “I just so happen to _know_ where Metapod is!”

“Of course,” Rocard growled, gripping his bag tighter. “Just like a ghost-type to kidnap someone. And let me guess, you're not informing us without a fight.”

“Exactly!” Gengar cheerily responded. “Now let's hurry up and battle!”

Rocard nodded firmly, pulling out a rock. Ekans was the first to move towards the two, rattling his tail. Unfurling her wings, Skarmory swiped at the poison-type, striking at the head.

Gengar glanced to Medicham and scowled, pushing her closer. The fighting-type huffed back, charging up a thunderpunch and aiming it at Rocard. Rolling a little too late, Rocard grazed the attack, wincing at the electricity that now coursed through his veins.

Not to be outdone, Ekans launched himself at Skarmory, wrapping her tightly. Rocard tossed the rock in his hand at Ekans, dealing a decent amount of damage. Turning around, he made the mistake of looking into Gengar's eyes. Locked into his position by the ghost-type's mean look, Rocard had no way of avoiding Medicham's second thunderpunch.

Skarmory struggled herself free of Ekans’ grasp, pecking him and bringing him down. She hastily regrouped with Rocard and whacked Gengar with a wing, cutting off the latter's night shade move.

Gengar hissed, forming a spite to exhaust the steel-type. Medicham prepared another thunderpunch, but Rocard released a smokescreen on her, throwing off her aim just enough to hit the ground.

Rocard pulled out a second rock, then realized that this was the last one in his bag. Putting it back, he instead leered Gengar while Skarmory pecked at him. Medicham whipped out a protect while she recovered from the blinding smoke.

Attempting to lick Skarmory, Gengar didn't quite anticipate a retaliating peck on his tongue. He yelped, backing up a few feet, leaving Medicham by her lonesome to defend against her opponents. She grimaced when her protect shield faded with the smoke.

Rocard used another leer, and Skarmory finished off the fighting-type with a swift peck. The cyndaquil smirked at the odds that grew in their favor.

“Your buddies are down, Gengar,” he reminded, holding his stone. “I can let you guys surrender if you so choose.”

“Never!” Gengar defied automatically, wincing.

“Suit yourself.”

Winding up his arm, Rocard pitched the rock at the ghost-type, knocking him out with enough force to make him slide a bit on the ground.

“Eat a _dick_!” Rocard boasted, puffing out his chest. “That's how we do it in Orre, bay- _bee_!”

Skarmory stumbled, breath hitching. “H-How we do it in _where_?”

“Huh?” the cyndaquil said, faltering and turning to her. “Oh, just a place in the human world. Doubt you'd recognize it.”

The next few moments were filled by an unexpectedly eerie silence. Skarmory awkwardly stepped forward. “Uh… Right… Can we go look for Metapod now?”

“No need.”

Rocard whipped around behind himself, spotting the bug-type in question with a rather bored expression. He beamed. “There you are! We've been looking--”

“So I've heard,” the metapod stated, rolling her eyes. “Name’s May, for your information. And you just knocked out my escort.”

“Your--” Rocard stuttered, nearly falling over. “...You _weren't_ kidnapped?”

“Nope!” she responded with a little too much cheer. “Came here willingly with that gengar.”

Rocard scowled at the tone. “How do you know he didn't use hypnosis and tricked you into thinking that?”

May bounded across to where Gengar laid. “Probably because he doesn't know how to use that?”

“She has a point,” Skarmory attested. “He used spite, night shade, lick, and… What other move?”

“Mean look, the only move he didn’t use on you,” Rocard added, furrowing his brow. “But that… That doesn't…”

“I suppose it's high time I head back,” May observed, joining back with the other two. “You got a badge or something?”

“I--Uh--Yeah,” the cyndaquil sighed, defeatedly pulling out his badge. “Let's just go.”

* * *

Lockjaw didn't realize he had fallen asleep until the door opened. He snapped upright, heart pumping. _Gods, it's already sundown! Did those two..._

“We're back,” Rocard proclaimed, then slowed down to look at the totodile. “...Er, sorry about waking you up. Nightmare?”

Rubbing his eyes, Lockjaw shook his head. “No, no… But my time awake earlier might as well be a bad dream.”

The cyndaquil set his bag down on the table, wearing a sympathetic expression. “What about it, if you don't mind me asking?”

Watching Skarmory come in and sit on one of the straw beds, Lockjaw sighed nervously. “Team ACT came by earlier today.”

“Oh.”

Rocard sat next to the water-type, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Did they do anything to you?”

“Surprisingly, no,” Lockjaw said, squirming a little at the touch. “But I don't know if that's a good thing. They're coming back some time later today.”

“...Shit,” the fire-type cursed. “Well, if they try something funny on you, I'm not gonna stand there and let it happen.”

“But that's the thing!” Lockjaw rebutted. “They didn't seem to be looking for me. With Alakazam there, I had no chance of hiding, but they never even entered!”

“Who are they looking for, then?” Skarmory asked, tilting her head.

Lockjaw exhaled, pinching his brow. “That's what I was thinking about. If they weren't searching for me, it would have to be either of you… but Skarmory, you only joined our team recently.”

“And if it's not her, then it would have to be… me,” Rocard trailed off, staring into nowhere.

The group went silent. With the sunset light filtering onto Skarmory's feathers, Lockjaw gazed at her in hopes of distracting him enough to calm down.

“Er… Can you please stop staring?” the avian muttered, blushing heavily.

“I, uh--” Lockjaw stammered, looking away with mutual embarrassment. “Sorry. So… What do we do?”

“I thought _you'd_ know,” Rocard pointed out, more surprised than accusing of the totodile. “You're the one that knows more about them than I do - probably more than Skarmory, too!”

“By my Dad's stories!” Lockjaw blurted. “But that's it!”

Sighing, the cyndaquil fiddled with the strap on his bag. “If I had to guess, we're better off waiting on them and doing whatever they say for now. They'd squish us in a heartbeat if we tried to resist.”

Before long, the room fell back into silence. Unlike the previous bout, however, someone knocked on the door.

Lockjaw immediately stood up in a panic. Ducking behind a pile of straw, he harshly whispered, “It's them! It _has_ to be! Just--Rocard, just get it over with!”

Rocard shook himself once, quelling some of the chills he felt, and opened the door. Alakazam waited on the other side, while Char hung back.

“Whaddya’ know, Al?” the charizard said, grinning ever-so-slightly. “They're all here, it seems.”

“Don't call me that,” Alakazam chided, face unchanging. “If you don't mind, my partner and I would like a word with you. Inside, preferably.”

“Be my guests,” Rocard said cordially, leading the two inside. “I can't help but notice Tyranitar isn't with you.”

The psychic sat in the air, using his powers to levitate. His expression slightly shifted. “You can refer to him as Tony. This is more of a private matter, after all. He's currently off to get a report from Swellow.”

“Ah,” Rocard said. He hopped onto one of the chairs, sheepishly smiling. “I’d offer tea, but I don't know how to make it. Uh, what did you want to talk about?”

“Where is your deino partner?”

Tensing up, Rocard locked eyes with Alakazam. He exhaled, resting his head on an arm. “No idea.”

“...Really. That's your answer,” Alakazam deadpanned.

The cyndaquil nodded. Hesitating, he lowered his head. “Scan me if you have to. You'd probably get the answers you want that way.”

Alakazam hummed. “Interesting response. If you say so.”

Lockjaw's eyes widened, but he couldn't respond. _No, don't! Why--_

Once the spoons the psychic's grasp glowed, he put one of them on the cyndaquil's head. A few tense moments later, the tools stopped their shine, and Alakazam's hand flicked back.

“That's…” he uttered, the corners of his mouth twitching. “That's a truly _impressive_ psychic shield you have. Dare I say it, it might be stronger than even mine!”

“Wait, what?!”

Rocard reeled back in his chair, shrugging in bewilderment. “I was actually kinda _hoping_ you'd read my mind there!”

“You mean you _weren't_ aware of such a shield?” Alakazam gawked. “Astounding.”

“Right?!” the cyndaquil agreed. A smirk pulled at his mouth. “I guess that means you'll have to take my word for whatever I say like everyone else.”

Hissing a little in frustration, Alakazam rested his arms back onto his lap. “Fine. I'll still be able to see if you're lying by your actions.”

“Yeah, yeah, just ask your next question.”

“Are you aware of the Ascendant?” the psychic inquired.

Rocard rolled his eyes. “Yeah. I don't think he's all that great, though.”

“Hm…”

Alakazam rolled his fingers along his leg, analyzing the cyndaquil. “Who's the Ascendant, if you know 'him’ so well?”

Chuckling a little, Rocard shook his head. He stood up and jumped to the floor, leaning absurdly close to the psychic. “Take a wild guess.”

Alakazam sent him an unimpressed glare.

“...If you didn't figure it out by now, then it's me,” the smaller fire-type stated with a hint of disappointment.

“And are you aware of what powers you have?” Alakazam interrogated. “What sort of crisis that needs to be averted? What are you in this world for--”

“Whoah, easy there, buckaroo,” Rocard halted, crossing his arms. “I’ve only been in this world for a week or two _max_. Besides, in _my_ world, there's no 'legendary hero’ under the Ascendant moniker.”

“In our world, in his world…” Char grumbled. “Alakazam, are you _kidding_ me. What other world _is_ there other than our own?”

“The Ascendant hails from a world that contains more than the pokémon species,” the psychic quickly explained. “Xatu made that point clear with me. So Tony lied about that deino being the Ascendant after all.”

“Nope!” Rocard corrected, arms behind his head casually. “Still technically the truth. Cerberus got summoned or something with this whole Ascendant business.”

“...What?” Alakazam asked plainly. “I thought you said you had no idea where he was.”

“Also true,” Rocard answered, furrowing his brow. “He kinda shares the same body with me… Buuut he only seemed to show up when I shifted into a deino - which, by the way, was extremely painful both times it happened. Can't hear him right now.”

The psychic-type blinked a couple of times. “...This is confusing, even for me.”

“Yeah, it is,” Rocard admitted. “Try living it.”

“No thank you,” Alakazam refused, standing back on his feet. “I suppose we've chatted long enough. Char, I'll be reaching out to Xatu to tell him of our findings.”

“So soon?” Char quipped. He opened the door regardless. “You only just returned yesterday.”

“I'm well aware,” Alakazam affirmed, turning to the group of three and giving an acknowledging nod. “We _will_ meet again.”

Once the door closed tight, Lockjaw ran up to Rocard and shook him violently. “What the hell was that?! Not only did you tell him the truth, but _Alakazam_ , of all pokémon, went practically head over heels for you!”

Rocard could only shrug. “I mean, if I'm here to stop a calamity, most people would jump at an opportunity to assist, right?”

“But--But he's practically a _dictator_ around here!” the totodile argued. “Draconids were sent into hiding because of him!”

“Yyyeah?” Rocard said uneasily, weighing his arms like a scale. “But if the world ends, good and bad don't matter if everyone's dead.”

“Uh, fair point,” Skarmory interjected, still bewildered by the scenario.

“Augh, fine! You're right,” Lockjaw relented. “Let's just go to bed.”

They all could at least agree on doing that.


	11. Rushed

Rocard found himself in the green-and-yellow void once again. He balled his fists, scrunching up his face in frustration.

“Just what is it now?” he groaned. “Unless you've strengthened your connection, I'm not gonna bother listening.”

His voice echoed through the emptiness. The cyndaquil waited for a moment, then exhaled. Sitting down, he muttered, “Can't even hear you. Why are you still trying? I don't even _know_ you!”

Just as he said that, a silhouette faded into view, clearer than last time. He squinted his eyes to make out additional details. Though still blurry, he could make out a flowing dress.

“--can--hear me--” the figure asked, voice ambiguous in gender. “Roc--you hear--now?”

Rocard sighed. “Yeah. You're still cutting off quite a bit, though.”

“Oh, thank Arc!” they responded. “The connection should--a little more stable as--talk.”

When the mystery pokémon finally became more than a silhouette, Rocard blinked a couple of times, then faltered. “G-Gardevoir.”

“Yes, that’s me!” the psychic gleefully affirmed, bowing. “Pleased to finally meet you!”

_To _finally_ meet me?_

“Do… Do you not remember me?” Rocard questioned, crestfallen. “Rocard? The guy you visited a lot as a kirlia? Before that whole fiasco at Phenac? I-I know I'm a cyndaquil right now, but _surely_ you… recognize me?”

Gardevoir’s lips creased. “...I’m afraid not. I was born in the world you’re currently in.”

It took a moment for Rocard to truly wrap his head around the answer. “I… guess I’m really the only one I know here, then.”

“Fortunately, that’s not true,” Gardevoir corrected. “If I recall correctly, there’s… about three former humans in this world, other than yourself. I’m sure at least one of them is someone you know.”

“Right, three humans from a world with billions of them,” the cyndaquil remarked, huddling his arms close. “Though granted, I've yet to see a human here. The closest to friends I’ve had were pokémon… Ironic, considering the group I was forced into. Well… Maybe one person was nice…”

“The group you were…”

Straightening up, the psychic-fairy-type’s mouth went ajar. “Ah, I see. No wonder you might’ve thought me to be familiar.”

“Wait, how did you do that?” Rocard blurted. “Not even Alakazam could read my mind. You look like you hardly took any… effort… Oh.”

“Who do you think made you that shield?” Gardevoir questioned, giggling. “Well, to be fair, I _did_ have help with it.”

The fire-type’s eyes widened in realization. “Huh. Just to keep myself from confusing you with… er, the gardevoir I know, what gender are you? Your voice doesn’t give any indicators for me.”

“Oh! Well, I’m a fe--”

Parts of the void started graying out. Alarmed by the sudden change, Gardevoir drew closer to the cyndaquil. “But that’s not important right now. Right now you need to comfort Lockjaw and find a jumpluff in the Square in the morning--”

Then, the void disappeared, along with Gardevoir.

* * *

Unlike the other two, Lockjaw couldn't catch a wink of sleep. How could he sleep with the sort of news he learned only hours ago?

He sat on his haunches, head resting on his claws. _I know Dad wants me to help Rocard, but if he's supposed to save the world… I can't mess up! If he fails, then it'd be my fault that I didn't support him enough… right? Sure, he's a pretty decent guy, but…_

Lockjaw stood up, quietly stepping around the other beds and heading for the door. He twisted the yellow fabric of his replacement scarf. _Hopefully, a walk will calm me down._

As he turned the knob, though, something shifted behind him. He turned to see Rocard tossing and turning on his straw bed. The totodile hesitated, unsure if his partner was waking up or simply having a nightmare.

Then, he shut his eyes in frustration and finished opening the door. _Not now. It'll just be a couple minutes of walking._

He exited, taking extra care not to make any noises upon closing the door behind him. Looking up into the night sky, simply basking in the moonlight eased his nerves. The totodile even started making a couple of constellations with what stars he could see. Granted, the shapes didn't resemble anything to him, but the activity proved relaxing to him regardless.

Even still, he couldn't quite dispel his anxiety. _What mission did the other two go on, anyways? I didn't see any big injuries or anything, and they seemed too peppy to have failed… but why didn't they take me with them? Tired or not, I can still fight! I can…_

A pair of footfalls behind him tore him out of his thoughts. Lockjaw whipped around, grasping his scarf, and leered at a cyndaquil.

“Chill, it's just me!” Rocard pleaded. “I, uh, just woke up and heard the door open. You weren't in bed, so I went out and looked for you.”

 _Of course he woke up,_ Lockjaw internally groaned. He loosened his grip on his scarf, if only slightly.

“So…” the fire-type started, tapping his digits together. “Anything you wanna talk about? Anything on your mind?”

“Nothing _you'd_ be concerned about,” Lockjaw mumbled, gazing off to the side.

“That sounds like something someone with an issue and a half would say,” Rocard stated, looking away. He mirthlessly chuckled. “And probably something _I'd_ say in response to such a question.”

The totodile hissed, crossing his arms. “Tell me about it.”

Rocard glanced at him. “We aren't gonna stick together if we keep secrets from each other. Might as well start now.”

“Start what?” Lockjaw questioned.

Realizing something, the cyndaquil faltered. “Well… I'm not sure what to start with, actually…”

“Then _why_ did you go on about prying secrets off of each other?” the water-type demanded, huffing.

“I-It's…” Rocard stuttered. “You wouldn't believe me.”

Lockjaw narrowed his eyes. “Probably more believable than a former human with powers from an ancient tale impressing the best psychic around.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Rocard inhaled. “...Yeah, probably. Well… Basically, a gardevoir communicated with me by telepathy.”

“Where's the unbelievable part?” the totodile noted, relaxing his arms. Thinking of something, he wiggled his brow. “Is she a _secret lover_ of yours?”

Deadpanning at the remark, Rocard shook his head. “Apparently, she knows plenty about me, and she's the one responsible for the psychic shield… Though she said she wasn't the only one who did that part.”

“Still kinda’ believable,” Lockjaw stated. “What else?”

“She knows of at least three former humans aside from myself,” Rocard continued, tapping his hands. He paused the moment he looked at the lack of digits in each hand. “...And right before the connection cut off, she told me to 'comfort’ you and find a jumpluff later today around the Square.”

“Aaand there it is.”

“Which part?”

Lockjaw rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, the random jumpluff--Which do you _think_ it is?! _One_ human is unheard of, let alone _four_ in the same generation!”

“Doesn’t that mean there were humans before all this?” Rocard pointed out.

“It's common knowledge around here,” Lockjaw agreed. “There's only been two major stories that contained a human in them…”

He stopped walking to sneer at the cyndaquil. “But you should quit trying to change the subject! Weren't you trying to 'comfort’ me or whatever that gardevoir said?”

“I kinda’ can't do that without you opening up!” Rocard countered. He simmered down, putting a hand under his jaw. “And arguing isn't helping either of us do that.”

“I--”

Lockjaw curled his fists, turning away. Exhaling, he looked up, saying, “Yeah, this isn't helping. Where do I start?”

Rocard glanced up at the sky as well. “Well… Does this have to do with some particular person?”

“Yes,” the totodile sighed. “Dad wants me to make sure you stay alive, help you out and whatever.”

“Doesn't seem too bad,” Rocard said. “You've done both of those things well enough so far.”

“Did I really?” Lockjaw retorted. “You and Skarmory went out on a mission without me! I should've gotten up and joined you when--”

“Whoa, whoa, _whoa_ , jumping to conclusions, are we!” the fire-type interjected, putting a hand on the totodile's shoulder. “We left you at the house to rest! You spent all night to make sure you were ready once I woke up from--”

“But you were still transitioning from deino to cyndaquil--”

“Let me finish--”

“ _You_ interrupted _me_ first!”

Rocard halted, deciphering the blunder on his part. “Oh. Ha-ha… right.”

“As I was saying,” Lockjaw resumed, “you had just switched back, and even a heal seed didn't immediately help with your recovery. Why couldn't I have joined you to give an extra helping hand?”

“Because you helped me recover at your expense,” Rocard softly, yet firmly stated. “So I let _you_ recover. Skarmory was better off than the two of us combined, so she could assist me if I needed it.”

He turned the rest of his body to face Lockjaw. “You know Skarmory and I have your back just as much as you have ours’. Just remember that.”

The totodile nodded, steadying his breathing bit by bit. “Right.”

“I hope I won't be too much of a burden.”

Both of them blinked at the unanimous statement. Then, they bursted out laughing.

* * *

Only when they made their way back down the path did Rocard see the glimmer of sunrise in the east. He checked himself, realizing that he had forgotten to take his bag and badge with him. Lockjaw only seemed to have his scarf, too. _Probably could hide a badge in there… Wait a second. That doesn't look like the scarf I remember seeing before._

“Hey, Lockjaw, quick question,” he hastily said, “what kind of scarf is that? You had one that let you go through walls, so what does this one do?”

“Uh…” the totodile droned, peeking down at the yellow material. “It’s a defense scarf. The mobile scarf I had before is… well, unusable now. Because of that whole… yeah.”

Rocard only hummed back. _He had it on my… wound. Feels like such a long time ago, even if it's only been days._

In an attempt to bounce back from the mood shift, the cyndaquil added, “There aren't a lot of scarves that boost stats in my world. The only one I can think of has a pretty hefty cost to it.”

“Ah,” Lockjaw noted, gripping the cloth around him. He glanced to the fire-type. “Do humans fight alongside pokémon? What kind of powers do they have?”

Rocard flinched as if struck by a bite attack. _Oh gods, what a can of wurmple. How do I respond to that?_

Staring long and hard at the cyndaquil, Lockjaw sighed. “You'd rather not say. We can talk about that later, I guess. Just don't forget.”

Considering the topic of keeping secrets had been discussed not too long ago, Rocard felt a strong urge to answer regardless of his hesitance. He licked his lips, standing up straighter.

“I can talk about it now,” he mumbled. “I don't know how well I can describe it to you, though.”

“...If you insist,” the water-type relented.

Rocard took in a deep breath. “Humans, for the most part… uh, don't have powers that pokémon do. Some can lift heavy objects or swim for extended periods of time, but that takes years of practice, and not everyone can even reach that point. What we lack in strength or endurance, we instead… have more determination, charisma… strategic prowess.”

“So… basically, humans are smarter than pokémon?” Lockjaw summarized.

“N-No!” Rocard denied, eyes wide. “Well, maybe? There are different kinds of intelligence - knowing a bunch of useful facts doesn't mean anything if you can't put them to use, and… well, even the best strategies aren't a hundred percent foolproof.”

“Uh, okay?” the totodile responded, arching a brow ridge. “Is there a reason why you're acting all flustered, then?”

“Um, well, I--” Rocard stuttered. He took a moment to steady himself. “H-Humans and pokémon tend to cooperate pretty well, even if humans typically can't… understand pokémon.”

“But where's the embarrassment in that?” Lockjaw pressed.

Rocard went quiet, noticing that his body had started trembling. _He's right. Where _is_ the embarrassment in that? Why am I locking up all of a sudden?_

Time seemed to stop when he recalled something.

“I was researching the intellectual differences between humans and pokémon,” he whispered. “During the last couple of weeks I was there, in my world. But… something _happened_. Something about that spiraled out of control. _What_ could've done that…?”

Lockjaw breathed out, straightening his face. “How about we get back to the house? We'll take a little break there, okay?”

“But I--”

“No, you're not ready,” the totodile stated. He pulled Rocard along. “Even though you said you could talk about humans, you clearly can't yet. C'mon.”

Despite the argumentative thoughts rising up his throat, the fire-type remained silent, letting his partner drag him along.

Upon returning to the brick house, Lockjaw knocked on the door a few times before slipping in. Skarmory lifted her head almost instantaneously, breathing shallowly. Facing the other two didn't quite seem to calm her, either.

Rocard tightened his lips. “What's wrong, Skarmory?”

The steel-type's beak opened and closed uselessly for a few seconds. Shuddering, she uttered, “I need to get to Mount Freeze. I gotta’ go to… I gotta’ go find someone there!”

Rocard only barely managed to withstand Skarmory rushing into him. He pushed her back and slammed the door shut. “Whoa, hold it! Who do you need to find?”

“I-I-I don't know!” she stuttered, spreading her wings in a panic. “But I need to find him--her-- _augh_! I have to get to Mount Freeze!”

“Where's Mount Freeze?!” Rocard nearly shouted. “We can't help this someone if we don't know!”

The lack of an answer, along with Skarmory's frantic glances, cemented the point.

“Dad might know,” Lockjaw said, shaking his head. “But all I know is that Mount Freeze is a _long_ way from here.”

“I'm not going to help them!” the avian retorted. “But I made--I made a _promise_ to someone! I-I promised someone that I'd…”

She quieted down, still distraught. “I don't remember what…”

Rocard sighed, rubbing his temple. “Let's try not to worry too much about this if we can't do anything about it. I promise that we’ll go there as soon as we can. In fact, hold up just a moment…”

Picking up his badge, the fire-type squinted his eyes at the bright screen. “Now is there a record feature on this thing?”

“ **Initiating vocal recording…** ”

“Oh, good, there is,” he noted, then took a deep breath. “This is a reminder that I promised Skarmory to take her to Mount Freeze once we can. End recording, please.”

“ **Saved. Play record--** ”

“Nope!” Rocard interrupted, snapping the device shut. “Okay, now that _that's_ over with… How about we go to the Square?”

Lockjaw gawked at the cyndaquil. “We only just got back! Can't we stay here a little longer?”

“The more time we spend here, the less time we have to search for that jumpluff and find a path for Mount Freeze,” Rocard argued. “We can't sit around all day!”

“But we're _not_!” the totodile returned. “The sun's barely up, and you're already willing to exhaust yourself doing too many things at once! We can afford to stay inside for, I dunno, a couple of _hours_. You were told to meet up with this jumpluff in the morning, _right_?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Then we could be here for a while and it would _still be morning_!” Lockjaw pointedly remarked. “Not everything can be done at once!”

Rocard looked away, knitting his brow. He sat down and crossed his arms, going deep into his thoughts. _I still can't just sit around knowing I can do something. Why do I need to stay? I'm not some helpless kid!_

Somehow, that train of thought struck a chord with him. Scratching his head, the cyndaquil tapped his feet. _But I _am_ still not a legal adult yet. I will be in a few months, though! And I'm still nowhere _near_ helpless!_

A rhythmic tap broke him from his thoughts. He looked to Skarmory, who had been clicking at the floor with her talons absentmindedly.

_Tap-tap-tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap._

Rocard's eyes widened. Recognizing the pattern, he waved at the steel-type frantically. “Skarmory, what is it?”

“Uh--What?” she stammered, her talons going still. “Was it something I did? Is something on me?”

Furrowing his brow, Rocard shook his head. “You were tapping in morse code. Do you… not know what it means?”

“In what code?” Skarmory glanced downward. “...Oh, I guess I was bored. It's just a familiar pattern to me. Never thought it meant something.”

“It… does,” the fire-type reaffirmed. “It's a distress signal, used to tell someone far away that you're in danger and need help.”

Tensing, Skarmory's beak flapped open. She looked away, blushing. “Oh… That's why you were so panicked. S-Sorry about that.”

Rocard gazed at her for a few more moments before sitting back. He checked Lockjaw, but the water-type only shrugged. _If that particular message is 'familiar’ enough to her… She must've been in extreme danger some time before her memory loss. Unless there’s no established morse code?_

“Does that pattern mean anything to you, Lockjaw?” Rocard asked, more disturbed than anything at this point.

“No?” the totodile responded, leaning against the door. “Probably better to ask my dad, though. I don't know what this 'morse code’ is all about.”

Sighing, the cyndaquil twisted his bag strap a couple of times before unwinding it. “Yeah… Even in my world, it's hardly seen use. Technological advances made distance communication _way_ easier.”

The room fell into silence yet again. Rocard wrung his hands, eyeing the windows constantly. He watched Lockjaw exit the house briefly before coming back in with some papers. _How long have we been sitting here?_

“Hey, guys, come look at this,” Lockjaw said, holding up a newsletter.

Approaching the totodile, Rocard looked at the article, looking back with a deadpan expression. “Can't read in footprint runes, remember?”

While Skarmory's eyes widened at that remark, Lockjaw rolled his.

“I was _going_ to read it to you,” the water-type hissed, then cleared his throat. “‘The controversial Team Shiftry are still missing after attempting a rescue at Silent Chasm. Their client, Floe of Skyward Theatre fame, claims a monster from the shadows took the hapless leader. She is currently requesting any rescue teams to investigate the mystery dungeon. Come to the Square for more details.’”

He shot Rocard a suspicious look. “There, you got your wish. Let's go to the Square.”

Rocard sighed, patting his bag. _Finally, we get to go._

“R-Right,” Skarmory agreed. She plucked a few feathers nervously, standing by the door and temporarily looking over Rocard.

Lockjaw sent one last glance at the cyndaquil, expression softening into a mix of emotions.

* * *

_Just how many are there?_

When the team had arrived in the Square, Skarmory couldn't help but feel quite claustrophobic at the mere sight of the crowd. Her height did well in observing over the waves of pokémon, but even she could barely make out a jumpluff guarded by two nuzleaf.

“Awright, everybody stand back!” one of the nuzleaf shouted. “I know y'all wanna help out the miss, but this ain't doin’ any of us any favors! Form a neat lil’ circle about this far around us! If there ain't enough room, make another one!”

The crowd of apparent rescue teams didn't seem to comply at first. However, once the inner parts began spreading out, everyone else followed suit. Skarmory felt a tug at her talon from Rocard, who pointed towards a portion of the outermost circle.

She followed him, apologizing to whoever she bumped into. Once they reached the spot, she leaned down, telling Rocard, “Lockjaw wasn't kidding about her fame, huh?”

“I suppose not,” the fire-type laughed, though the following chuckles died in the sea of voices. “Mind if I hop on your back? Wish I were tall enough on my own.”

“Er, I don't see why not.”

Skarmory bent down, letting Rocard climb on, and turned to Lockjaw. A dismissive wave of his claw gave her the answer she needed.

“Now that y'all are situated nicely,” the other nuzleaf continued, “quiet down while Miss Floe chooses the team that'll go on her behalf!”

Almost immediately, the surrounding pokémon hushed at once. Floe daintily floated above the group, hovering over a disappointed octillery. She weaved around a stantler's horns, all the while looking left and right.

Skarmory stared on in awe of the grass-type's inspirational acrobatics. _A beautiful work of art. Even when panicking, she can smoothly ride the wind. No wonder she's popular._

It took her a moment to realize the jumpluff had stopped mid flight. Floe gazed straight at the avian - or perhaps the cyndaquil atop her back.

The jumpluff slowly approached Rocard, nervously glancing sideways. “...You there, Cyndaquil. Will you help me?”

Rocard paused, looking around at the gasping audience. A small chuckle escaped him. “Um, I don't suppose there are any other cyndaquil here… Yes, my team and I will.”

“How curious…” Floe commented, staring him down a little bit longer before floating back to the center. She whispered something to the pair of nuzleaf.

“It's been decided, then!” the first nuzleaf announced, bringing the attention back to him. “Those that ain't part of the cyndaquil's team, go back to whatever y'all were doing! Rocard's team, c'mere!”

Amidst the series of groans that rang throughout the crowd, Skarmory smiled. “Looks like we get to talk to her now--”

She halted at the disbelief in Rocard's face. “...Rocard?”

“I didn't tell her my name,” he uttered. “That’s no coincidence.”

Skarmory hesitated, eyes widening. “A-All the more reason to meet with her, right?”

“Maybe,” Rocard replied, vacantly gazing into the distance.

“Hey, can we get moving?” Lockjaw reminded, tugging at Skarmory's leg. “Can't have either of you distracted…”

“Oh! Right,” the steel-type exclaimed.

They waded through the remaining crowd. Skarmory shrunk a little at the jealous glares some passersby sent at them, but that gave her all the better reason to catch up with the nimble Lockjaw. When the team finally stood in front of Floe, Skarmory let Rocard down from her back.

“Hey there,” the cyndaquil greeted, extending a hand. “Name's Rocard… Though you seem to already know that.”

“A pleasure,” Floe said, taking his hand and shaking it. “I… had a hunch, so to speak.”

“Hell of a hunch that is,” Rocard noted, though he flinched at the daggering glares from the nuzleaf. “Sorry, just a lot on my mind.”

Lockjaw flicked a bit of stray cotton from his arm, then stepped slightly forward. “Where is Silent Chasm? We can worry about how you know him later.”

Floe looked to the other grass-types and nodded. “Right. Follow me.”

As the rest of the group trailed behind the jumpluff, Skarmory fell behind a little, gazing downward. _She reminds me of someone. Meek and tender, yet graceful… Guarded by someone at almost all times… If I had a clipboard, I'd write down all the traits and--_

She stumbled, but flapping her wings kept her from completely falling over. _A clipboard? What use would I have for one? I can't write! At least, not with my wings… Maybe there’s a way to write with talons that I’ve forgotten?_

“Skarms, you okay?” Rocard called. He blinked, face abruptly glowing pink. “Uh--If you're fine with that nickname! I just--”

“I'm okay,” Skarmory affirmed. “Just tripped.”

_Come to think of it, a nickname would be nice. Not that one, though - too simple._

* * *

_Stupid, stupid--She gives _herself_ the name, I shouldn't be thinking of nicknames for her-- I’m not like _them_ or--_

Rocard did his best to hide his blush. Considering he was in a public street with several people - pokémon - around him, it was safe to assume his efforts were pointless. _I mean, I don't _love_ her or anything! Nicknames are for familiarity and convenience, right? Augh, I'm just screwing it up even further…_

He heard Lockjaw snort, only furthering his embarrassment. _Even somebody like _him_ knows I messed up! And then when I inevitably go around nicknaming him and Skarm--Skarmory, it's just gonna’ go downhill from here--_

“Yeah, just saying ‘Skarmory’ is a big mouthful,” Lockjaw snarked, patting a claw atop the cyndaquil's back. “We're familiar enough with her to call her by… whatever her nickname is.”

“Wha--I--Gah!” Rocard spluttered, unable to form a cohesive argument.

The totodile raised a brow ridge in amusement. “Do pokémon not nickname based on familiarity in your wo--where you're from?”

“No, they--I--”

Rocard forced himself to look around, recalling that they were still in a public area. “No, th-they don't. Usually, most of us there have names that… aren't related to our species. Nicknames are generally reserved for more… intimate relationships - or if somebody has an inscrutable name, or just really good friends. I think.”

While one nuzleaf partially turned his head - likely to listen in on the conversation - Lockjaw snickered. “That explains the blush. A lot of the pokémon here give themselves nicknames when they grow up a bit… or so my dad says. It's pretty commonplace for a pokémon to state their nicknames to acquaintances - even strangers, in some cases.”

Slowly, Rocard relaxed, adjusting the bag at his side. “I… yeah. I don't know what came over me.”

“If y'all are done,” a nuzleaf piped up, “we're here.”

Rocard looked ahead to see a hotel (what he assumed to be one, at least). Compared to the various buildings in Orre, he found this place… underwhelming. It had an impressive height, for sure, but the cracks on some corners were visible even from here. The walls themselves had a mishmash of brick, wood, concrete… How could anyone stand going to this place, let alone stay a night or two?

He looked to Lockjaw, who stared back.

“Well? What're y’all waiting for?” the other nuzleaf prodded, gesturing to the entrance.

Rocard sighed before following the grass-types inside. _That accent's going to be the death of me, I swear._

When the group reached one of the many rooms on the first floor, Floe gave one nuzleaf her bag. The nuzleaf pulled out a key and unlocked the door, giving both items back to the jumpluff in a robotic fashion.

“We'll be on the lookout, Miss,” he said, nodding to the other nuzleaf. “Hopefully y'all get Boss back safe n’ sound.”

“Hopefully,” Floe repeated, leading Team Redemption into the room.

The door shut behind Skarmory, who winced at the noise. She scurried closer to Rocard, sitting down by the only window. Floe lifted the glass, a slight breeze entering the room.

“Any reason why we're here and not at Silent Chasm?” Rocard asked. “Like Lockjaw said, you knowing me doesn't matter if we need to rescue somebody.”

“But that's all the more reason to explain what could happen,” Floe countered, the cotton ball atop her head bobbing. “The winds do more than carry me. Every current speaks to me; some give advice, inspiration… predictions.”

“...What kind of predictions?” the cyndaquil finally questioned, something falling to the pit of his stomach.

“Warnings.” She made an effort to still her cotton-filled limbs. “Rocard, if you need any precautions to take… Don't rush your attempt at rescuing Shiftry, and don't use the only reviver seed in your bag.”

Lockjaw straightened up, reaching for Rocard's bag but stopping just short. “You have a reviver seed?! When did you--”

“A fake,” Floe interrupted. “Take a look at the seed.”

Digging inside for whatever seeds he could find, Rocard pulled out three of them and placed them on the carpet. “Which of these is the one, though?”

“That one,” Lockjaw said, pointing at the one closest to Floe. “Looks pretty real to me.”

“But if we flip it over,” she stated, revealing the other side of the seed, “ the symbols aren’t identical. A reviver seed has a sun-shaped mark on both sides, but this has a hollow circle on one side - a _reviser_ seed, if you will.”

Lockjaw gawked at the distinction. “Oh. No wonder you warned about that. Good… call?”

“What's the difference, aside from the markings?” Rocard experimentally inquired.

“Reviver seeds do what you'd expect,” the totodile responded. “It brings back a KO'd pokémon. Reviser seeds do the same thing… only… Something happens _after_ the revival. Rumor has it this causes the pokémon affected to go some level of crazy, and they fall unconscious again.”

“Yeesh…” Rocard said. He shook his head wildly. “Okay, this thing's going out! What was the other thing you mentioned…”

“You shouldn't rush through the dungeon,” Floe repeated. “Rescuing Shiftry will not be a quick endeavor, regardless of your pace. The winds only speak ill of the Ascendant if he pushes himself too hard.”

Recoiling at the mention of his title, Rocard glared hard at the jumpluff. “...Right. Please, don't call me that. How do you _know_?”

“Exactly how I told you, and how I knew of the reviser seed,” Floe returned. “Every current speaks to me.”

As if on cue, the wind picked up, nearly blowing the grass-type off her feet. Her face lit up. “Good, good… I suppose I'll send you three off.”

“Weren't we just talking about how I shouldn't rush things at the moment?” Rocard deadpanned.

“Rushing through the _dungeon_ ,” Floe corrected, shutting the glass window. “There is a reason that place is named Silent Chasm, after all.”

Lockjaw flinched. He clutched his stomach, muttering, “I think I got a stomach ache just from imagining that reason…”

“Gee, thanks for mentioning that,” Rocard groaned. “You probably wouldn't have gotten that stomach ache if you didn't linger on the thought for so long.”

“ _In any case_ ,” Floe continued, guiding the three to the door. “Good luck. Find Shiftry, and bring him back.”

Skarmory braced herself for the door to slam shut once again… but a soft click echoed through the hall instead. Rocard sent her a brief look before checking the hallway. Only one nuzleaf guarded the entrance.

“Nice n’ quick, aintcha’,” the grass-dark-type observed, pulling out a silver badge and looking into the screen for a bit. “Y'all still doin’ the rescue?”

“Er, yeah,” Rocard confirmed.

“‘Preciate it, pardner. Name's Harvey, by the way.”

“Oh!” Lockjaw exclaimed, hopping a little. “How come I didn't recognize you sooner? It's me, Lockjaw!”

Harvey grinned at the totodile. “Hey, good to see ya’! Ardy's havin’ a blast with that toy you got 'im! Can't believe I haven't thanked you yet for helpin’ out my little brother like that…”

“Really? I didn't think a small toy like that would entertain him _that_ much. Reminds me of the time you…”

All the while, Rocard unenthusiastically mumbled, “It’s a small world after all…”

He tuned out the conversation at hand, instead opting to watch Skarmory pace around. Even she's getting impatient. _Maybe she's still thinking about Mount Freeze… Who might be important enough for her to persist in going there?_

Eventually, Rocard grabbed the totodile by the arm, passive-aggressively telling Harvey, “Fun chat and all, but we _really_ need to get to Silent Chasm.”

Lockjaw glared at the fire-type before sighing. “We'll talk later. Say hi to Ardy for me.”

“I gotcha’,” Harvey replied, waving the three farewell. “Good luck!”


	12. Recalled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **[Content Warning: This chapter contains blood. While there is not an excessive amount, reader discretion is advised, regardless.]**

Rocard stared at the staggered walls, eyeing the chips and cracks. “You'd think this place would be full of pitfalls, considering its name and all.”

“I don't trust the floor beneath me,” Lockjaw stated, seeing the very same cracks along the floor. “We haven't even entered the dungeon yet. If one of us falls down a pit now…”

Skarmory shuddered. “A-At least I have my wings! I could land safely, right?”

Approaching a cave entrance, Rocard sighed. “This is it, isn't it? There's a sign right over there. Read it, please.”

“'Danger! Do not mine around Silent Chasm!’” Lockjaw quoted. “There’s your answer.”

“Fantastic,” the cyndaquil said, peering into the cavern. “Just gotta’ make our way through, huh. Let's get started.”

* * *

Rey sat on her straw bed, staring into her cup of pomeg juice. She used a bit of her psychic abilities to stir the liquid some more, face motionless.

 _I should be relieved that he's out of my life,_ she thought, squinting her eyes just the tiniest bit. _Why did I ever mate with a draconid, regardless? Oh, how naïve I was back then… Naïve, _foolish_ me._

Some juice splashed out of the cup, landing just underneath her mouth. She wiped off the spot with the cloth underneath the cup, eventually deciding to set it down. Checking the clock, she exhaled. _I'll need to speak with Whiscash soon. Just what does he want?_

With a flap of her wings, Rey went into the air. She hovered near Larry's room and carefully opened the door. The caterpie busied himself with using his silk to draw something.

“Larry, dear,” Rey said calmly, “I'll be meeting with Uncle Whiscash for a while. Would you like to join me?”

“Okay, Momma.”

She silently thanked the heavens for her son's cooperation; with how often her relatives went missing lately, the butterfree couldn't help but feel paranoia creep into her mind. Now, to get her… niece.

Trepidation crawled up her spine. _How long am I going to keep May from knowing the truth?_

It was a question she asked herself frequently, yet never did she attempt to talk about it in front of the metapod. It certainly wasn't an appropriate question at the moment, either.

Rey picked up Larry and proceeded to knock on the door to May's room once. “I'm coming in, May.”

May, fortunately, was in her room, perked up about something. Fluttering in, Rey felt a familiar chill in the air, but she couldn't quite determine the reason for the change in temperature.

“I'll be having a meeting with your Uncle Whiscash,” the butterfree repeated. “Please come along. I don't want to have to fill out another missing pokémon form… Hopefully you understand.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” May relented, hopping over a stuffed clefable doll.

“It's awfully cold in here,” Rey noted. “Do I need to have a fire-type help warm up the place?”

May paused for a second, mulling it over. “Nah. Didn't realize it's cold. Are we going or not?”

“Alright. Let's go.”

As Rey ushered the metapod out the hotel room, she almost thought she saw the clefable plush move. The butterfree stared in the direction of the doll, at least to make sure she wasn't imagining it.

“Momma, are we going yet?” Larry mumbled.

Rey blinked. “Er, yes. Off we go.”

_Maybe I'm just getting a little paranoid._

* * *

Skarmory ducked under a beedrill, the bug-type whizzing over her head. She retaliated with a peck, though the beedrill flew just high enough to avoid the attack.

“Dang it!” she hissed, whipping up a cloud of sand to buy herself time.

Sparing a glance to her teammates - who both fought off a gloom - the steel-type guarded her face when she noticed the beedrill making its way back to her. She felt the bug-type smack its head into her wings, giving her enough time to peck it to the ground.

Skarmory kicked the unconscious enemy aside and looked to Rocard. Lockjaw seemed to be taking care of the wild gloom pretty swiftly, delivering a mighty ice punch to finish off the grass-type.

“Damn, how'd you learn that move?” Rocard exclaimed with a starstruck expression.

“Dad taught me,” Lockjaw stated, flicking frost off of his wrist. “A long while ago, he did. How are you holding up, Skarms?”

While the cyndaquil hid his flustered face, Skarmory gestured to the beedrill. “I took care of this guy.”

Lockjaw grinned, though she couldn't tell if it was due to her statement or Rocard's apparent embarrassment. “Great! You're actually doing pretty well, considering you only have fourteen months’ worth of memory.”

“I thought it was fifteen months,” Rocard uttered through his arms. “Or was it sixteen?”

“It's sixteen… Right?”

Even Skarmory had trouble recalling the exact number of months. “Well… Thanks anyway? I'm just doing what feels natural to me.”

“You should take lessons from her,” Lockjaw joked to the fire-type.

Rocard glared back, still blushing. He noticed something ahead and pointed to it. “The stairs are right there.”

“How far along are we?” Skarmory asked, sending a nervous glance towards Rocard.

The cyndaquil pulled out his badge a little too quickly. “Ninth floor. Floe didn't specify which floor Shiftry's on, so he better be in the next one.”

“Wait,” Lockjaw ordered, stepping in front of Rocard. “Let's not forget what she warned about. How about we take it slowly next floor?”

Rocard breathed through his nostrils. “Right…”

Upon reaching the tenth floor, the surroundings changed to a single large room. Pebbles and dust littered the ground, and the cracks along each wall extended to parts of the flooring as well. The ceiling provided a surprising amount of light.

Skarmory eyed the ceiling in particular. “Th-This looks like the end of the d-dungeon.”

“It does,” Rocard noted. He cautiously stepped forward a fair distance. “...As long as we're not too noisy, we should be good.”

“If you say so,” Lockjaw said, following behind the fire-type.

As they walked down the deceivingly simple path, the amount of light provided by the segmented ceiling dwindled. It nearly felt like nighttime when Skarmory finally spotted a lone pokémon on its stomach not too far ahead.

“Is that him?” she whispered, growing more anxious by the second. “He's not moving!”

“That looks like a shiftry, alright,” Rocard stated, readying himself. “We need to get closer.”

“ _WHO goes_ there?!”

The ground shook at the sheer audacity of a new voice, and the ceiling was covered up by something… or someone.

Rocard hissed, standing in front of his teammates protectively and puffing out his chest.

“I'll _have you_ KNOW that _this meal_ is _MINE_!” the voice rasped.

Lockjaw gasped. “I think I recognize that tone, Rocard! Do you think it's--”

“ _ **Quiet**_ , YOU!”

Electricity sparked along the ceiling, briefly revealing yellow and black wings. Then, the creature landed on the ground, a giant avian that guarded Shiftry's body.

At once, Rocard faltered. He backed up into Lockjaw with wide eyes. “Th-Tha-That’s Zuh-Za--”

“I _WILL_ NOT let _you_ **take** my _precious MEAL_!” Zapdos screeched. Its body sparked with both standard electricity and some purple, staticky particles.

Rocard began hyperventilating, while Lockjaw swerved around him and took a battle stance. “Give it up, Zapdos! That shiftry's no meal!”

“SIII _III_ **III** _II **IIII**_ LENCE!” the electric-type shrieked, snatching Shiftry by the hair and dragging him into the air.

The three rescuers backed off once Zapdos tore into the ceiling, carving into the stone and jumpstarting a collapse.

Skarmory grabbed the two smaller pokémon with her beak and hurled them back, far out of range of the falling rocks. She flapped her wings frantically, almost making it to the other two when a chunk smashed into her right wing.

Spiraling out of control, the steel-type crashed into the floor. Lockjaw bolted towards her, pulling by her good wing just in time to avoid another rock. Rocard hastily joined in, helping the totodile carry her to safety.

Only when the rumbling ceased did Skarmory cry out in pain.

“Oh, nononono!” Rocard moaned, clawing through his bag and pulling out whatever berries he could find. “We are _not_ going to let you bleed out like this!”

“I'm _bleeding_?!” Skarmory whimpered. “Where--Oh my gods!”

The silver feathers around her wing were frazzled, showing multiple cuts and bruises. Some shrapnel dug into the skin underneath, which seemed to be the primary source of blood loss. She gagged at the sight before whining again.

Rocard held out two oran berries, his hands trembling violently. “Wha-What do I do, do I put these in her mouth or squeeze them onto the wounds or do I do a mix of both or--”

“Give one to her first.”

Dropping the fruits abruptly, Rocard whipped around to see a jumpluff standing there. “F-Floe? What're you doing here?!”

The jumpluff sighed, pulling the strings around her miniature bag. “I'm not Floe. We don't have time to talk about this - start with what I said.”

Lockjaw picked up one of the berries and put them in Skarmory's beak. Squeezing her eyes shut, the steel-type retched at the taste, but she persisted in chewing until she finally swallowed the bitter fruit.

“Get the other berry and spread its juices around the wound,” the jumpluff ordered.

Taking a moment to grab the second berry, Lockjaw held it over the skarmory's wing. Jumpluff stopped him, using her limbs to make a cotton ball and setting it in front of the avian.

“Bite into it,” she said, stuffing the ball into Skarmory's beak.

Lockjaw squeezed the juices with his claw and spread them in a circular motion above Skarmory's wing. The steel-type screamed while the liquid flowed atop the surface, her voice muffled by the cotton. Once the totodile could no longer get any more juice out of the oran berry, he turned to the jumpluff for further instructions.

“Now, we wait,” she stated, taking a berry from her own pack and facing Rocard and Lockjaw. “You two need to heal up, too.”

After a moment's pause, the water-type split the berry in half and bit into his portion. Rocard had yet to pick up the other half.

“This skarmory will be fine,” the jumpluff assured. “You need to heal up, too.”

“I can't…” Rocard refuted, tenderly putting the fruit by Skarmory's head. He looked over her back, seemingly dazed. “I can't let this happen again… Not now…”

His breathing quickened, and he started clutching his chest. Lockjaw took him by the arm and stared him down.

“Snap out of it!” the totodile hissed. “Take it easy! No one's dying at this point!”

“...Please just let me help her heal up…”

Skarmory couldn't do anything but pity the cyndaquil. That pity became alarm when he stumbled into her, curling up and shivering. He let out a couple of quiet sobs.

“R-Rocard, are you okay?” Skarmory meekly asked.

“I--But…” Lockjaw sputtered, exchanging glances with the jumpluff. “What's going on with him?! He's never acted like… like _this_ before!”

The grass-type pursed her lips. “He might be reliving a painful memory. I'm not sure how we can put him back into reality, but as long as he doesn't get violent, we should wait it out.”

That statement reminded Skarmory of something. “Can we make some ice chunks? If he holds onto one of them, the cold touch might bring him back to his senses?”

“Er, I can try,” Lockjaw replied, furrowing his brow. “Not sure where I could make a small enough piece of ice, though…”

“Oh! Pour some water into your claws, then use that ice punch move to freeze it,” the avian suggested, wincing at the discomfort of her wing moving.

Lockjaw stared at her for a few seconds, then cupped his claws together and did as told. When he finished, he grunted and pulled his digits off the frozen liquid. He gave Rocard the oddly-shaped ice chunk, carefully placing it in the fire-type's hand.

Shaking at the touch, Rocard soon grasped the ice with all his might. He blinked a couple of times before finally uncurling and laying on his back. “C-Cold…”

He shot up to his feet, eyes wide yet again. “Oh, f-fuck! Dammit, dammit, _dammit_!”

“M-Maybe that wasn't the best of ideas…” Skarmory mumbled.

“What? What idea?” Rocard said, picking up the ice piece - which had already half-melted. “Did it… involve this?”

With a newfound wave of relief coming and going, the avian stared at the scrunched up expression on the cyndaquil's face. “...Yyyes?”

The fire-type raised a brow, then the other. Resting a hand on his head, he said hollowly, “You gave the ice to me. To stop my dissociation.”

“Er, I, uh--” Skarmory blubbered. “Your disso-what?”

“...Forget I said that,” he dismissed, picking up his bag off the dusty floor. He looked to the jumpluff. “If you aren't Floe, who are you?”

“Don't change the subject like that!” Lockjaw chastised. “What got you all zoned out and on the floor? Why did we need to give you some _ice_ to snap you out of it, of all things? We can't risk having this happen in a dungeon, or during a fight!”

“I-I…”

Rocard trailed off, looking down at the ground and keeping his arms close.

“ _Well_?! We need to know what--” Lockjaw continued, though a jibe from the jumpluff cut him off in a heartbeat.

“Now. Is not. The time,” she harshly whispered. Raising her voice only slightly: “I'm Curie, the youngest of our group. Shiftry came to help me out of that crevice. The winds he caused must've woken Zapdos from its slumber.”

Skarmory shifted her position as much as she could to get more comfortable, still feeling the sting of her injury. “Why did Zapdos act like that? What was with the purple aura around its body?”

“That was a shadow pokémon,” Lockjaw stated, resting his head on his claws. “At least, that's what Rocard called it… You were affected by it, too, before whatever Rocard did happened with Cerberus around.”

“Oh…”

Curie watched the group with an indeterminate expression. “You know about this, Rocard? Who might this Cerberus be?”

Rocard glanced around. Eventually, he muttered, “More than I'd like. Cerberus is… Um…”

“Cerberus is a deino,” Skarmory supplied. “He's pretty helpful.”

“I see,” the jumpluff noted. “Skarmory, can you walk?”

Slowly standing up, the avian flinched, her legs stiff from sitting on them. She remembered how tall she was compared to the others. “I-I think so. But not quickly.”

“That’s alright,” Curie reassured, floating over to the rubble. Pulling out a silver object, she said, “This is Shiftry's badge. He must've dropped it.”

The badge looked a little worse for wear, but it seemed to function somewhat properly, buzzing, “ **Identifi-tifi-tification, please-ease.** ”

“Curie, jumpluff,” the grass-type said.

“ **Pr-Process- _sssss_ -sing… Cur-urie, is--Shift-ift--**”

Letting out a couple of static bursts, the device continued, “ **Shiftry unav-av-available?** ”

“Yes. He was kidnapped after rescuing me. I have another rescue team with me.”

“ **Process-rocess- _iii_ ng… Show identi-dentity of rescue team--eam.**”

Lockjaw took his badge out from his scarf, extending his other claw towards Rocard's. Keeping it closer to his body, the fire-type walked forward and gave his badge to Curie. Skarmory offered Lockjaw her badge.

Once all three badges were gathered, Curie scanned them. Shiftry's badge bleeped. “ **Team Redem-edemption-on, thank you for-for completing this miss-sss _sss_ -ssion. Use this-is badge to retur-turn to Pokémon Square?**”

“Y-Yes,” Rocard affirmed.

Teleporting Curie off first, the device fizzled. All three members of Team Redemption picked up their badges, and Shiftry's badge proceeded to transport them.

* * *

Dammit, May, what are you thinking? Why do you insist on talking with me? _Me_ , of all pokémon?

Sure was _awfully convenient_ for her to have a clefable doll in her room - an accurately-sized one, no less! This sort of craftiness could belong on a team like mine…

I shook my head. _No way I'd let her on, though. Medi would rip her to shreds._

Remembering that the metapod left with that butterfree, I snuck out of her room. At least my teammates are used to me being gone for a while to “scout” for potential “candidates”. Hell, they forget to ask me what I found sometimes!

The hallways were just as empty as they were this morning. Only a pair of nuzleaf strolled through the first floor. _For a hotel, this sure doesn't get a lot of customers._

Truthfully, I couldn't decide whether to go to my crappy base or follow the butterfree. Peeking through the outermost wall revealed she was at the lake with that old water-type. Of course, I was too far away to hear anything, but the temptation to get within earshot was oh-so-high.

So, like a complete buffoon, I took the chance. Thank Giratina for my ghost-typing!

Hiding behind a tree that certainly seemed as old as the whiscash, I perked my ears toward the conversation at hand.

“I hope you understand that, Whiscash,” the butterfree pleaded.

Whiscash sighed. “Fair enough. There are some topics I would've liked to discuss, had you not brought the children along.”

“Maybe when I'm not worried about any additional kidnappings, I'll come by,” she reaffirmed, holding the caterpie in her arms tighter.

“Right, right.” Whiscash pulled out a chunk of ice from under the water. “Thaw this out and listen to the contents in your spare time. I'm sure you'll get some questions answered with it, Rey.”

Rey squinted her eyes, if only slightly. “...Alright, sir.”

“Can I ask a question?” the caterpie joined in.

“Go right ahead, little Larry,” Whiscash replied, chuckling.

“When can I play with Rocard? It feels like a long time since I've seen him.”

“Er…”

The water-ground-type looked to Rey, confused. “I'm afraid I don't know this Rocard fellow. You'll need to ask your mother.”

I glanced away for a few moments. _That name seems pretty familiar. Can't quite put my finger on it, though._

“I'm sure he's quite busy, dear,” Rey explained. “But maybe you can join his team when you're older. When we're sure neither you will go missing, you can visit him.”

“Okay, Momma…” Larry muttered.

I smirked at the little guy's tone. Then, I frowned. _They're pretty worried about one of them getting kidnapped. Would I have added onto that if I knew that butterfree was paranoid beforehand?_

Even ghost-types have standards. Was it really worth it to “kidnap” May as a bait for the Ascendant?

…

Why do I get a heavy dose of déjà vu when I think of the name Rocard?

* * *

Rocard tuned out Curie and Skarmory's conversation, trudging on into the hotel ahead of everyone else. He hardly spared a second glance at Lockjaw, not wanting to feel stared down the way he did.

If the nuzleaf from before - the one that wasn't Harvey - addressed him, he didn't react until Lockjaw started prodding him.

“Huh--What--” Rocard sputtered, lifting his head. “What is it?”

“I said, how did it go?” the nuzleaf repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Ya’ look kinda’ down, there. Did you fail?”

“In rescuing Shiftry,” Lockjaw answered for the fire-type, “we didn’t get to him in time. Curie’s safe with us, though.”

Rocard sent the totodile a glare. _Why did you get my attention if you were just gonna answer for me?_

“At least there's some good news to all this…” the grass-type noted. “What happened to Shiftry?”

Try as he did, the cyndaquil couldn't help but flinch. “Zapdos took him.”

At once, the nuzleaf did a double-take. “Humma--Y'all must be jestin’! Nobody's seen Zapdos in _years_!”

“Yeah, Officer Swellow, gotcha’ covered,” Harvey claimed from around the corner. Turning said corner, he stopped at the sight of Rocard and Lockjaw. He then muttered into the badge, “Speak of the devil. Hang on the line, Officer, here's the other team for ya’.”

Handing the silver badge to Lockjaw, Harvey flashed a brief smile at the water-type. “Ya’ gotcher camera ready, Officer?”

With a couple of maneuvers, the badge started up a larger screen, with the swellow on the other side.

“Huh, had a feeling I'd see you again,” he said thoughtfully. “Who's the cyndaquil next to you?”

“This guy's Rocard,” Lockjaw pointed out. “We just got back from Silent Chasm.”

“So I've heard,” the flying-type stated, clearing his throat. “Several rescue teams reported Zapdos flying to Mount Thunder from Silent Chasm. I need to let you know that the surrounding areas are being closed off because of this.”

“What does that have to do with us, exactly?” Lockjaw asked.

After a moment of silence, Swellow leaned in closer to the screen. “Harvey, Adam, do you swear confidence in this information? We can't have the public knowing about this, but this concerns your leader and Team Redemption.”

Adam coughed, realizing he was being spoken to. “Let's… move to a more private place, awright?”

When Skarmory and Curie walked in, Harvey relayed the information to them.

“I need to see my sister,” Curie responded, already making her way to Floe's room. “She'll more than likely know what's going on anyways.”

Skarmory looked at Rocard, shifting on her talons but unwilling to speak for the time being.

“Everyone here?” Harvey quipped, glancing around briefly. “Awright, then. We'll take y'all to our room.”

The trip gave Rocard a little breathing room to think. He watched the totodile beside him for a moment, then inwardly sighed. _Lockjaw's still pretty pissed. I can't tell him what I saw - the less I think about it, the better… for _all_ of us._

Inspecting his hands, the cyndaquil missed being able to pick at his fingernails. _I couldn't save her, even after all that first-aid… Dammit, I'm _sorry_! Just some horrible piece of shit… If I’d gotten there sooner, maybe I'd…_

He rubbed an eye, feeling renewed tears trickling down.

“Are you okay?” Lockjaw whispered. “Do I need to make some ice again or something?”

“What? No!” Rocard muttered back. “How did you even know that would help?”

“Again, I didn't, Skarmory did,” the water-type said, gesturing to the avian in question. “Curie said you might've been 'reliving a memory’. How did giving you ice help?”

Rocard glanced at Skarmory, who only awkwardly smiled back.

“We're here, y'all,” Adam announced. He unlocked a door and opened it for the rest of the group.

At the same time, Rocard silently thanked the nuzleaf for the interruption. Lockjaw, however, didn't look like he was having any of it.

“Don't think you're gonna go without answering,” the totodile hissed. “What _happened_ there? Why aren't you _saying anything about it_?”

“Because I can't!” Rocard exploded, a stark contrast to his reserved demeanor earlier. “Do _you_ know what it's like to watch someone _bleed to death_ , all the while fruitlessly trying to patch them up? Knowing that if you'd gotten there sooner, they'd _live_?!”

His voice started cracking, only serving to frustrate him further. “I couldn't save her in time! I was the only guy there to try to save her, so I take the blame when she dies in that pool of blood!”

By now, all eyes were on him, but he didn't care. The cyndaquil grabbed Lockjaw, glared straight into his eyes, and screamed, “I _murdered_ her in trying to save her!”

He released his grip, his arms losing all strength. Flopping to the floor, he sniffed loudly, choking out a sob.

Harvey and Adam looked to each other nervously, Skarmory appeared too shocked to move, and Lockjaw…

Lockjaw looked betrayed. Maybe it was his current state of being, but Rocard couldn’t care less.

“Is what you speak of true?”

The professional tone in Swellow's voice made the cyndaquil's heart skip a beat.

“Adam, Harvey, I'm going to spend some time talking with him,” the normal-type responded, though his tone started wavering. “Please move the badge closer to this Rocard fellow while I speak to him.”

“Oh, sweet Mew…” Adam muttered, becoming a bit panicked. He set the badge down next to Rocard. “We'll… hang out in our room.”

“Do that.”

Rocard sat up immediately, breath quickening.

“Hold it, hold it!” Swellow ordered. “You're not being arrested or detained! I just want to talk with you. ‘Mon to 'mon.”

“Don’t lie to me!” the cyndaquil cried.

“I’m not,” Swellow assured. “Technically, I'm the only one that can directly arrest anybody around here. There's… something that needs to be addressed if what you say is accurate.”

Rocard stared at the screen in disbelief. _Like what? My confession to murdering someone? Just say you're gonna arrest me and be done with it!_

“Are you aware of PTSD?”

Lurching forward, Rocard nodded just the tiniest bit.

“By the looks of this…” Swellow began, breathing in deeply. “Your actions appear to heavily resemble those with PTSD, and more than likely survivor's guilt alongside it. How long has it been since this… incident?”

Rocard could tell there were confused, yet concerned expressions on both his teammates. He surprised himself in mustering up the courage to whisper, “About three years ago.”

“I see… It's still rather fresh on your mind.”

The cyndaquil curled up again.

“Could you describe to me who you were trying to save?”

At once, Rocard shivered. He turned a little, watching what little movements the swellow made on screen. “Someone very important to me. Her… H-Her name was… Macy.”

* * *

Skarmory froze. _The person that died was named… Macy?_

It felt like a personal attack on her, which struck her as odd. _Why? He's grieving over someone who died, and I start feeling insulted over it? Was I some jerk before I lost my memory?_

“Macy, huh… What was she like?”

Rocard smiled weakly. “She had to have been the one bright spot in my life. A little bookish, but she was very considerate and sweet. If anything, she felt like an older sister to me.”

His smile faded, and he gulped. “B-But she's gone.”

“It's okay,” the normal-type responded. “We can talk about something else. How do you typically deal with flashbacks or dissociation?”

“...Touching something helps,” Rocard stated. “Usually something cold.”

Skarmory wracked her brain, a wide range of emotions pouring through her thoughts. _Why do I feel like I need to prove him wrong? What do I need to prove wrong?_

_A large fountain flowed through the town. Its presence easily distinguished the difference a single source of freshwater could make in the arid desert._

“Do you take any medication?”

“Yes, but I… lost them somewhere a week or two back.”

…?

Skarmory blinked, and the scene went back into the hotel hallway. _Was that… a memory?_

“Does the medication help with your PTSD?”

“Er… No. All I took were a couple of antibiotics and painkillers.”

“...For what, exactly?”

Digging through her mind further, the avian

_knew she had to run. Too many pokémon lashed out at once, plunging the city into chaos._

_In this frenzy, she failed to react to a lunging houndour until it bit her by the arm. Pain surged through her body, and despite vigorously shaking her arm, the houndour held on._

_It wasn't until a torkoal clamped its mouth on the other fire-type's rear end did she_

stumble to the floor, startling the rest of the group.

“Ma'am, are you okay?” Swellow called.

“I-I'm fine!” the steel-type squeaked, promptly standing back up. “It--Uh--It was a daydream! Sorry, keep talking about… wh-whatever you were talking about!”

The officer looked at her somewhat sternly, but he didn't press the issue further. “As I was saying, what were the antibiotics and painkillers used for?”

Rocard hesitated. “To… To recover.”

“From what?”

At this point, Lockjaw narrowed his eyes. Skarmory had a suspicious expression on her face, too, but her reasons were likely vastly different from the totodile's.

“I… had to have needles in me almost weekly,” the cyndaquil finally stated. He then quickly added, “T-To help cure a sickness I had. It required a lot of… therapy, but I managed to beat that sickness.”

“Jeez, kid. Must've been rough.”

“It was.”

_Needles, sickness… Was it really a sickness, though?_

“I see you're a lot more comfortable now,” Swellow observed, leaning in a little closer. “Now, keep this between us: if you ever need a pick-me-up, call up Altaria. She's usually busy, but if you mention me, she'll come flappin’. She specializes in this kind of work.”

“Okay…” Rocard mumbled, cheeks growing a bit pink. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem,” the normal-type beamed. “Keep on fightin’. You're not alone in this.”

Clearing his throat, Swellow adjusted his stance. “Shall we get the nuzleaf back here?”

Rocard nodded, knocking on the door to Adam and Harvey's room. Lockjaw looked to Skarmory, breathing through his nostrils.

Skarmory analyzed the memory that resurfaced in her mind, imagining every detail she could. One small piece suddenly made her breath hitch:

Why did she have _arms_?


End file.
